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atlabeth · 2 years ago

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everything happens for a reason part 20 - zuko x fem!reader

Guess it's true, I'm never getting over you

part 19 | masterlist | part 21

a/n: holy shit guys. we're finally here. the title chapter, the part that officially puts us over the 100k mark, the turning point, the end of the constant mf angst that i've put you all through. that's right. it's finally time for yn and zuko's life changing field trip. ive had this idea down for so long and i can't believe we're actually here lol. buckle up because she's a very long and very emotional one. i hope you enjoy.

wc: 14.3k I KNOW IM SORRY

warning(s): a lot of angst, fighting, violence (including minor character death), a whole lot of emotions, but the fluffy reconciliation you've all been waiting for<3

chapter title comes from everything happens for a reason (!!!!!!) by madison beer

Y/N felt betrayed.

It wasn’t a secret how she felt about Zuko. She avoided him at every possible moment, making herself scarce whenever he walked into a room or completely ignoring him in group conversation—it was the closest she could get to the civility required now that he was Aang’s firebending teacher, and even that was difficult.

Not because she didn’t want anything to do with Zuko—no, it was becoming the opposite, and it scared her more than anything.

She found herself thinking of him more often than not. And not of the North, or their meetings along their journey, not the catacombs—she found herself recalling the more pleasant memories.

The time they spent together whenever they could when she was still a servant and he was still a prince. The sunset they shared together the night before her life was turned upside down. Those afternoons when she would visit him in the tea shop, talking like they used to, smiling like they used to.

Remembering him for who he was rather than who he had become was dangerous. It was how she got her heart broken in the first place, how she went through some of the worst months of her life.

He couldn’t hurt her again if she didn’t give him the chance to. So she wouldn’t.

But it was getting harder and harder to avoid him, because one by one, her friends forgave him.

First, she’d heard, was Toph. She didn’t have any kind of grudge against him, and she was able to make up for him burning her feet tenfold now that he was part of the team.

Next was Aang. He was already far too forgiving, the amount of grace inside of him more than Y/N could even hope to muster. They proved themselves in front of the last dragons together, and apparently that was enough for Aang to trust him.

It took Sokka a bit longer, but after what they pulled off at the Boiling Rock together, he didn’t seem to have a hard time getting along with Zuko. The fact that he helped save Y/N and Suki probably didn’t hurt his chances either.

Zuko had burned down Suki’s village, but Y/N still remembered what she told him in the courtyard��”if you can get me out of here, you’re forgiven. Kyoshi’s fans, I’ll be your best friend.” They weren’t exactly that close, but they worked together, and that was enough.

Katara, it seemed, was the only one who still shared Y/N’s scorned feelings. They held onto each other like a lifeline, feeding off of the other in their hatred. It might not have been the healthiest option, but they refused to forgive Zuko. They stewed in their hurt, and it felt good. It felt good to have a target for their bitterness rather than the abstract ideal of betrayal, and Zuko worked just fine.

After they had fought against Azula, the night they settled on a random Fire Nation island, the two of them sat together on the outskirts of camp. They were meant to be keeping watch together, but instead they made quiet conversation.

“So,” Katara said, “today was… something.”

“That’s one way to say it,” Y/N said wryly. “Since joining you guys, I’ve had enough action for a lifetime. I can’t wait for all this to be over.”

Katara smiled, but it was wistful. “Neither can I. This has all gone on for so long—all I want is peace.”

A memory flashed through her mind—frantic screams, desperate pleading, flames devouring centuries of life—and Y/N swallowed thickly as she tried to push it away. The closer the day came, the more the memories would appear. It happened every year, but this time it was worse.

“Me too,” she murmured. “More than anything.”

Katara looked at her for a moment, her gaze softening before she finally spoke. “Are you okay? I… I know today wasn’t easy.”

Y/N managed a thin smile, but it wasn’t convincing. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Katara said dryly. “We look out for each other—we always have, even from the first day we met. But it’s like you’re trying to make it as hard as possible for me to care about you.”

“One of my many skills,” she said sarcastically, but Katara didn’t laugh. Y/N sighed in response, long and deep, and allowed her gaze to drift into the murky distance. At nighttime, the water and the sky became one. It was calming. “I just…” she shook her head, “I don’t know what to do.”

“With Zuko,” she guessed.

“With everything,” Y/N said, but then she sighed again. “...Zuko included.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Katara said quietly. “Not after everything he’s put you through.”

“I keep telling myself that,” she murmured. “But there’s something inside of me that I can’t get rid of.” She looked at Katara, the beginnings of tears glimmering in her eyes. “There— there’s this hope that I can’t get rid of, that things could be the way they used to be again. And— and last time I felt that way was in Ba Sing Se, and I know where that got me, so—”

Katara stayed silent, only taking her hand to acknowledge her while allowing her to continue. It was a lifeline to her, one sorely needed, and she let out a shaky breath.

“So why do I still feel that way?” she asked, almost desperately. “How have they all forgiven him so easily? They know what he did— spirits, Aang died because of him— but they’re all able to sit around and joke with him like nothing happened.”

“They didn’t trust him the way we did,” Katara said with a quiet anger. “They didn’t trust him the way we did, so it didn’t hurt them the way it hurt us.”

“I don’t want to forgive him,” Y/N said weakly. “But the thought of losing him hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much?”

“I don’t know,” Katara murmured. “I… I don’t know.”

Y/N flinched as a tear rolled down her cheek and fell to the ground below, and she instinctively wiped it away. She couldn’t show weakness.

She grimaced at the thought. How long would that wretched place stay with her?

“I’ll give you some time.” Katara’s expression was pained as she squeezed her hand. She didn’t want to leave her alone, but Y/N was thankful for it. Right now she just needed to feel miserable by herself, without bringing Katara down with her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Katara nodded as she stood up. “You can sleep in my tent tonight. Or if you decide you want to talk, come bother me. I promise it’ll be okay.”

Y/N nodded, the action a bit numb, and she could feel Katara’s eyes on her as she lingered. But eventually she mustered the strength to leave, and Y/N was left with her thoughts.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat as she stared up at the sky. She tried to find the constellation her father taught her when she was a mere child—the tiger seal.

It was a jumble of stars that didn’t even remotely resemble the animal, but she remembered late nights spent stargazing on the ground outside their house, giggling endlessly as her father would point out various other constellations that he made up on his own. It would last until her mother would come out and tell them it was far past your bedtime, young lady, but she would never hide her smile as they ambled back inside.

The memory made a smile of her own emerge, but she soon realized she was fully in tears. They slid down her cheeks, falling onto the dirt and stones jutting out of the cliffside.

She couldn’t stop thinking of Zuko. She couldn’t stop thinking of her father. She felt so deeply broken in a way that she had no idea how to fix, in a way that was threatening to consume her.

She had her life back. Everything should have been back to normal.

But instead, she felt more lost than ever.

Y/N ended up taking Katara’s offer of sleeping in her tent, and she was glad she did. The familiarity of it all made her heart ache, but she was thankful for it. Thankful that she had friends like these who wouldn’t let her push them away, no matter how much her newly wired instincts told her it was the right thing to do.

She was visited by her childhood in her dreams yet again. She saw her father and her mother, walking hand in hand with smiles on their faces as they trailed behind a young Y/N skipping through the village paths.

She saw her child self running, screaming and laughing in equal parts as she was chased by the boy marked as the tagger, only to stagger backwards after running into one of the adults. But she was greeted by the smiling face of her father. The boy tapped her on the shoulder and ran off laughing, but her father knelt down to her level and looked at her completely seriously.

“I guess that means we’re the taggers now, huh?” And with that, the two of them ran around the village tagging everyone they could with the seriously unfair advantage.

She saw the moment after she’d learned how to waterbend, sprinting through the whole village to find her father, drag him to the lake, and show him her new skill. Gan held all the stars in his eyes as he watched her bend, and even though it was the simplest thing she could’ve done he praised her to no end.

The absence of scars, the smoothness of her skin, a bright smile that shone through her—she was unmarked by the world then. Hopeful, content, naive.

When she woke up with still-wet tear tracks on her cheeks, it wasn't a surprise. She woke up like this more often than not.

One week. Seven days. And then she would go to face something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

But for now, there was something else to focus on. She could hear loud voices outside of the tent—all familiar, thankfully—but she knew that meant she had overslept.

Y/N fixed her hair and her clothes, rubbing furiously at her face to get rid of any signs of her previous emotions, and emerged from the tent to see her friends all standing around Appa.

“—about getting closure and justice,” she heard Zuko say, and her brows instinctively creased.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms as she stopped between Sokka and Zuko. “What are you all talking about?”

Zuko’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at her. “Uh— good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said stiffly before repeating herself. “What’s going on?”

“Zuko knows where to find the man who killed our mother,” Sokka said. He was oddly quiet.

“And Katara wants to find him,” Aang said, his expression uneasy.

“Is there a problem with that?” Katara asked defensively.

“Not if Zuko’s right and you just want closure,” he said. “But I don’t think that’s what this is about. I think it’s about getting revenge.”

“Maybe it is!” Katara exclaimed, gesturing with one hand. “Maybe it is about revenge, Aang. But don’t you think I deserve it?”

“You don’t know what it will do to you,” Aang said. “I know how you feel right now, trust me—like violence is the only way to solve your problem. I felt that way after I discovered what happened to my people. But it’s not the only way.”

“I can’t let him go now that I know I can get to him!” she yelled, her voice rising with her anger. “Maybe it’s what I need—maybe it’s what he deserves.”

Aang’s eyes widened slightly. “Katara, you sound like Jet.”

“That’s not the same,” she snapped. “Jet hurt the innocent. This man— he’s not innocent. He’s a monster.”

“Katara, she was my mother too, but I think Aang might be right,” Sokka said.

She set her jaw. “Then you didn’t love her the way I did.”

Sokka took a step back as his eyes widened. “Katara…”

“The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper.” Aang spoke up quickly, trying to fill the air after what she’d said. “While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself.”

“That’s cute, but this isn’t Air Temple preschool,” Zuko said. “It’s the real world.”

“And you think he hasn’t experienced the real world?” Y/N snapped. “I think he knows a little bit about grief after what’s happened to him.”

Zuko looked at her with a surprisingly level expression, contrasting her narrowed eyes and upturned lip. “Monk pacifism isn’t going to help here.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retort back but Aang stopped her. “It’s okay. I forgive you, Zuko.” He looked at Katara. “That’s what you need to do. Forgiveness.”

Katara laughed in disbelief. “You want me to forgive the man who murdered my mother?”

“Of course not!” Aang said. “You need to face him—I understand that. But when you face him, you can’t kill him. You have to let the anger flow through you, and then out of you. Accept your emotions, then let them go.”

“Why should he get to live when our mother is gone?” Katara shouted. “I don’t want to forgive him, I want revenge!”

“Killing him won’t bring our mother back,” Sokka murmured. “You’ll just have someone else’s blood on your hands.”

“Good,” she said coldly. “An eye for an eye.”

“Makes the whole world go blind,” Aang finished. “One of the monks said that back in the temple—violence might feel right, but it just hurts everyone more. Forgiveness is the right choice.”

“Forgiveness is the same as doing nothing,” Zuko said.

“No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s easy to do nothing—forgiveness is hard.”

“It’s not just hard,” Katara snarled, “it’s impossible.”

Aang looked over at Y/N, who had been silent since her outburst at Zuko. “Y/N, please. You know revenge won’t help her.”

Y/N looked between the two of them, the steely determination brewing in Katara’s eyes at odds with a desperate softness in Aang’s. Something twisted in her chest, and she had to force herself to look away as she spoke.

“...Do what you have to,” she said quietly. “Whatever that ends up being.”

Hurt flickered across Aang’s expression before he looked away, and Katara nodded thankfully at her before she started walking away. Zuko cast a long look at Y/N before he followed her.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N muttered as she hurried off in the opposite direction, swallowing her doubts as her hands bunched into fists and loosened over and over, desperately needing something to do with them.

Katara was going after her mother’s killer, and Zuko was helping her with it. Katara, her last line of defense in her feelings against him, was going on her own trip with him. Y/N knew it was for the best—it was something she needed to do and Zuko had the Fire Nation knowledge that no one else in their group possessed, so he was the obvious choice—but a small part of her still couldn’t help but despise it.

He was getting too close, far too close, and she wasn’t going to let that affect her.

No matter what.

Y/N had found a small solace by the cliffside, sitting on the edge as her legs hung off. She could fall just as easily as anything, but maybe it was the danger that calmed her, the fact that she was in control of what would happen. She heard the footsteps before anything though, and her body tensed up instinctively as she whirled around.

“It’s just me,” Toph said, her blank gaze aimed at the ground. “You’re jumpier than usual.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can hear every ant on this cliffside through their movements,” she said. “Your heart rate spiked so much that even a baby could tell you’re off. You’ve been off, ever since you came back.”

She smiled wryly. “I’m still getting used to everything again. It’s not an easy transition.”

“But you’re here,” Toph said, and she sat down next to her. “You’ve been through everything, and you’re still here. That means you’re tougher than everything the Fire Nation has tried to throw at you.”

“How can you say that so easily?” Y/N asked. “I’ve flipped out on everyone at least twice for no reason. I constantly have nightmares about what’s happened. I— I can’t even bend because Zuko still has this stupid hold on me. I don’t feel tough. I feel weaker than ever.”

“You’re still here,” Toph repeated, emphasizing each word. “So many other people would have given up by now if they were in your position. But you didn��t—you fought, and you continued to fight until you won, no matter how long it took you. That’s what makes you tough—not all the stuff you’ve been through, but the fact that you’re still standing at the end of it.”

“When did you become so wise?” she joked weakly, her gaze trailing off into the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, beautiful reds and oranges blending with deep purple. It reminded her of the night everything changed.

“Someone had to keep these dunderheads together while you were busy in prison.” Y/N chuckled a bit, but she could see Toph’s expression sober in her peripherals. “...I’ve just been worried about you.”

“Really?”

Toph punched her on the arm without looking. “Does that make you believe me?”

Y/N managed a small smile as she rubbed the spot. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because I don’t know how much sappy stuff I can take.”

Her smile widened as she wrapped an arm around Toph and pulled her closer. “So you do love me.”

“Let go of me!” she protested. “This is the worst kind of sappy stuff!”

But Toph made no move to get away from her, and Y/N laughed. “Just admit it. You missed me.”

“Of course I missed you,” she huffed. “Without you, I actually had to do all the work with Katara instead of knocking Twinkle Toes around with earthbending or practicing on my own. It was horrible.”

“I missed you too, Toph,” Y/N said with a smile. “I didn’t realize how much I appreciated your tough love until I didn’t have it.”

“I have plenty saved up for you, Snowflake,” Toph grinned, “so don’t worry.” But her expression sobered, and she paused.

“...I’m here for you,” she said after a moment. “If you need anything, or just someone to listen to. I’m good at listening to people complain.”

“Thank you,” she said, her smile softening. “That means more than you know.”

And as the two of them sat there in silence, nothing being said verbally but more in the air between them than ever, she felt content once again. She didn’t realize how much she just needed to talk to somebody. First her conversation with Katara and now with Toph—her friends really were the secret to making her feel better.

…Things would be okay again, Y/N thought to herself. No matter how long it took, her friends would be there for her.

Things would be okay again.

She would be okay again.

“They’ve been gone for too long,” Sokka grumbled.

“It’s been two days,” Aang said. “Zuko said the man they were after was retired—it can’t be easy to find a retired Fire Nation soldier, no matter how knowledgeable you are about the navy.”

“That’s too long,” Sokka insisted as he crossed his arms. While Y/N, Aang, Suki, Toph sat together in a loose arc, Sokka was up and pacing. He had been for the past twenty minutes.

“Can you sit down, Sokka?” Y/N asked. “You’re stressing me out.”

“You should be stressed out!” he exclaimed, flinging his arms up. “The boy prince of betrayal went off with my impressionable sister on a murder field trip. There is no reason to not be stressed out!”

“You need to give Sugar Queen more credit,” Toph said. “If Zuko tries anything, he’s the one that should be worried. Not the other way around.”

“Toph’s right,” Aang said, but then he frowned. “And I thought you trusted Zuko.”

“Not when he’s alone with my sister on a murder field trip!” Sokka heaved a long sigh as he stopped, staring out into the distance. Even though their island was one of a big scattered chain, they were still extremely isolated. It was unnerving sometimes, especially at night. “She feels everything so strongly, and… and she’s always felt guilty about what happened to Mom. I know she thinks this is her chance to make it up to her, to do what she wished she could have done on that day. But I also know that if she goes through with it, she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.”

“She’ll make the right choice,” Y/N murmured. “I know she will.”

Aang suddenly perked up, and he turned around. When he did, his eyes widened. “They’re back.”

They all turned around to see Appa touching down at camp, but only one person dismounted.

“Where’s Katara?” Y/N instantly asked, her eyes narrowing as she darted up.

“She’s fine,” Zuko said, but when he glanced at Aang she could see his nerves. “She… she’s back at the dock. At the soldier’s village.”

“Did she…?” Aang didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to.

“No. He’s terrified out of his mind, but he’s alive.” A weight was visibly lifted off of Sokka’s shoulders with the single word, and Aang nodded.

“That’s… that’s good.”

“She said she needed some time to herself,” Zuko murmured. “I figured it was only right to bring you back with me.”

“I’m coming too,” Sokka said.

“Me too,” Y/N spoke up. She could feel Zuko’s gaze on her, but she didn’t meet it.

“I’ll stay back,” Toph said. “Someone has to hold this place down.”

“I will too,” Suki said, and she gave Sokka a light kiss on the cheek. “I hope she’s okay.”

“She will be,” Sokka said softly. “Eventually.”

Zuko nodded and started walking back towards Appa. “Let’s get back, then. It’s a bit of a ride.”

Soon enough, they were all in the village, and Aang jumped off Appa as soon as he’d guided him close enough.

“Katara!” he exclaimed as he ran towards her, sitting on the edge of the dock. “Are you okay?”

“I’m doing fine,” she murmured. Her voice was placid as the water she sat above, but it was strained.

“Zuko told me what you did,” Aang said softly. “Or… what you didn’t do, I guess. I’m proud of you.”

“I wanted to do it,” she said stiffly. “I wanted to take out all my anger on him, and I almost did. But… but I just couldn’t. I don’t know if it’s because I’m too weak to do it or strong enough not to.”

“You did the right thing,” Y/N said. “Facing that man makes you stronger than he could ever hope to be.”

“Forgiveness is the first step you have to take towards healing,” Aang said.

Katara stood up, and her gaze was a mixture of sadness and acceptance. But it was obvious the ordeal was still weighing on her. “I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him. But…” she looked past them and over at Zuko, the smallest of smiles pulling at her lips. “...I am ready to forgive you.”

She walked up to Zuko and hugged him, and after a moment of hesitation Zuko smiled and wrapped his arms around her. Y/N clenched her jaw and started walking back over to Appa.

She was happy Katara got closure, of course she was. But in the process, she had forgiven Zuko. She was her confidante, the one person who understood how deep her anger towards him went. She had been by Y/N’s side throughout their whole journey, at each and every road block, she was there for Ba Sing Se—for all of Ba Sing Se.

And somehow, Zuko had gotten her to forgive him too.

It was selfish, unbelievably so, for it to hurt her so much when Katara had just faced something impossible. But she couldn’t help the way that her chest twisted, how her heart ached, how her nails dug so deep into her palms they left indentations.

When the rest of them got back onto Appa, Katara sat down next to her. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” She didn’t make eye contact, her gaze focused into the distance as Aang set off for camp. “I’m glad you got to face him. That you made the right decision for you.”

“Y/N,” she murmured, “I know what this is about.”

“It’s not about anything except you,” she evaded. “This was a journey you had to take—we’re all behind you.”

“And you have all my thanks for that,” Katara said. She glanced at Zuko on the other side of the saddle, very obviously trying to pretend like he wasn’t listening in on their conversation. He wasn’t very good at it. “But I know you’re upset about… that.”

“We don’t need to talk about this right now,” she said.

“Y/N…”

She didn’t say anything. Katara sighed and settled back down on the saddle.

“Okay,” she nodded. “When you’re ready.”

Quiet conversation was made on the other side of the saddle between the three boys, but there was nothing between Katara and Y/N.

Nothing except a newly found weight on both their shoulders.

The sizzling fuse exploded when they got back to camp, though. A ride spent staring at the sky didn’t do much for her. Y/N got down from Appa the moment Aang guided him to the ground, and Katara let out a hefty sigh as she followed after her. She started to say her name, but she didn’t get far.

“Even you forgave him.” Her words were cold, icy rather than hot anger. “Even you! After everything we’ve talked about— everything you know!”

“I— I know,” Katara said, and she let out a deep sigh as she ran a hand through her loose hair. “But… but he helped me in a way that no one ever had. I found my mother’s killer. I got closure.”

“Well, maybe I should get him to help me find the guard who killed my father,” Y/N said sarcastically. “Maybe that’ll get me my bending back.”

“It could,” Katara said, and she was actually genuine. “It could work. And Zuko would help you.”

She huffed a mirthless laugh and shook her head, biting the inside of her lip to prevent the tears she knew would start welling up. “I’m not letting him back in. Even you said I shouldn’t.”

“I can’t say I know how much you’re hurting,” Katara said, “but… but Zuko is hurting just as much as you. There’s no excuse for what he did, I’m not saying that. But he wants your forgiveness more than anything in the world.”

“Did he tell you to say this during your trip?” she asked stiffly. “I mean, now that he’s turned you over to his side and everything.”

“I’m saying this because I care about you,” Katara said softly. “Y/N, I have seen you hurting for months now, all because of Zuko. Even from the first moment we met in the North, I knew there was something inside of you, and it’s still there. And if you don’t take care of it, it’s going to consume you.”

“I can’t forgive him.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a cracked, haunted resolve behind it. “I won’t let myself get hurt again.”

“And I can’t promise that he won’t hurt you again,” Katara murmured. “But I do know if you decide to let him back in, he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to you.”

Y/N wasn’t able to muster any words. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and turned away, blinking back tears.

“He talked about you,” she continued. “When he wasn’t talking about the Fire Nation and where we were going, he was talking about you. He loved you back then, and he still loves you now. Even if it took him way too long to realize it.” Katara’s expression softened as well as her voice and she took a step closer. “All he wants is to help you however he can.”

“If he loved me then and he still betrayed me,” she whispered, “then how can I ever trust him again?”

“...You just have to,” Katara said quietly. “Trust in the Zuko you knew before you were forced to be on opposite sides. When the two of you were the missing half of each other’s souls.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, still unable to look back at Katara. “I can’t.”

“Then at least don’t push us away,” Katara urged. “You’ve been off. I don’t know what it’s about, but you can tell me as little or as much as you want, whenever you’re ready. I’m here for you—we’re all here for you, Y/N. We love you so much. Let us help you.”

She bit down on her lip hard to prevent the tears from welling up, and she was only able to muster a nod. “I will. Soon.”

“...Okay.”

Y/N walked off, and she could feel Katara’s worried gaze on her. It took all her strength not to look back.

Three days.

It all went on as usual. Suki asked if she was okay, but she didn’t push.

Sokka wouldn’t stop looking at her strangely. He must have heard her leaving her tent in the middle of the night.

Two days.

The nightmares were worse. She nearly woke up screaming. Thankfully, she didn’t wake Katara.

Aang sat with her during breakfast, telling ancient airbender stories. He didn’t ask anything when he had to repeat himself because of her blank stare at the ground.

She spent most of the day sitting by the water.

Maybe it would come back after this.

One day.

Everyone knew something was wrong, but she didn’t give any of them the chance to ask.

Especially Zuko. He wouldn’t stop looking at her, wouldn’t stop trying to talk to her. She brushed him off every time.

She packed her bag that night.

She barely slept a wink.

“What are you doing?”

Her plan was to leave at the crack of dawn, before her friends could ask any questions or try to go with her. She would be back by nightfall, and she would have closure. The nightmares would stop. The guilt would go away. She would be okay again.

But of course, he had to ruin everything.

She didn’t look over at the sound of Zuko’s voice as she rifled through her bag, making sure she had everything she needed. “Nothing.”

“That doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Very perceptive, aren’t you?” she said dryly. Y/N tied her bag shut and stood up, then climbed onto Appa’s back. “I’m leaving.”

His eyes widened. “You’re leaving? Does everyone else know about this?”

“Not leaving for good,” she scoffed. “I just have something I need to do.”

“And that is?”

Y/N glared fully at Zuko. “None of your business.”

“You’re taking Appa in the middle of the night to go somewhere,” he said, crossing his arms. “Every time someone’s tried to do that, it’s been for something important. Sokka was going to the Boiling Rock, and Katara wanted to find her mother’s killer. I’m guessing whatever you’re going to do is equally important, which means you’re gonna need backup.”

“I said it was none of your business,” she repeated. “I can handle myself just fine without you.”

“Well,” Zuko crossed his arms, “I’m not leaving until you tell me what you’re doing.”

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” she jabbed.

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” he responded with a shrug.

She went silent for a moment as her gaze traveled away, staring instead at the dark night sky. Today had been the hardest day yet, even looking back on her months in captivity. It was the day everything changed. She didn’t exactly know what possessed her to tell Zuko the reason, but after a moment, she did.

“Seven years ago today, my village was invaded,” she said quietly. “It’s the day my mother and I were captured, and… and the day my father was killed.”

Zuko’s eyes widened, and his voice was the same as hers when he finally mustered something. “I… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” she said, “but apologies haven’t helped me with anything. I’m going back. I’m visiting my village for the first time since my mother and I were taken. Now that I have the means to travel there, it’s something I need to do.”

“I understand,” Zuko said, “completely. I’ll come with you.”

Her response was instantaneous. “No.”

“You can’t travel that far alone,” he insisted. “I have no doubt that you can handle yourself, but you’ve trained to fight with your bending, and right now you don’t have it. If you run into any kind of trouble, you’re… well, you’re gonna be in trouble.”

“I can fight,” she said. “I’m good with my fists. I held my own against Azula.”

“You did,” he admitted, “but her skill also isn’t in her hand to hand. And if you’re up against multiple people—say, Fire Nation guards—you’re gonna go down quick.”

“You have just as much faith in me as ever,” she remarked sourly.

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you!” Zuko defended. “I just don’t want you to die because you have too much pride to accept any kind of help.”

“It’s not that I don’t want any help,” she stated. “I just don’t want your help.”

Zuko let out a long-lasting sigh, shaking his head before he finally met her eyes again. “Look. I know you don’t like me, and you don’t have to. Not after… not after what I did. But whatever’s between us can’t affect our mission, because ultimately we’re all here to defeat my father. That has to happen no matter what, so like it or not, we’re probably gonna have to work together at least once to make that happen.”

“I don’t have to work with you if I don’t want to,” she said.

“Really? So if we’re in the middle of a fight and your choice is to either work with me or die, what would you do?”

“I’m not that stupid,” she snapped.

Annoyingly, though… he had a point. They couldn’t afford any distractions, not so close to the end. And Y/N wouldn’t be the reason for their failure because of Zuko.

“...Fine,” she relented, but the glare she pinned him with was still withering. “But you do whatever I tell you to do, and you don’t come with me when we get to my village. This is private.”

Zuko immediately broke out into a grin and he nodded. “Of course. I’m here for you.”

She averted her gaze as she took her seat on Appa’s head. “Get your things before I leave you here.”

He nodded again and he started off towards his tent. Y/N let out a loose sigh as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, the early morning chill beginning to get to her.

A trip with Zuko to her childhood village on the anniversary of the worst day of her life.

This couldn’t go terribly at all, she thought wryly.

“...So,” Zuko said, “do you know where we’re going?”

“No,” she said, “I just thought I would lead Appa around blindly and hope that we somehow end up in the right place.”

“So you do know—”

“Of course I know where we’re going,” Y/N snapped. Maybe it was unfair of her, but she didn’t exactly care. “Sokka took a map from Wan Shi Tong’s library before it collapsed, and he let me borrow it. It’ll take us a couple of hours, but we should make it before noon.”

Zuko nodded. “Where is your village? You never told me much about it when you talked about your past.”

“Why do you care?”

He huffed a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

She said nothing, and Zuko sighed. “I care about you, Y/N, more than anything. I’m here because I want to help you. Of course I care about where you’re from.”

“That doesn’t mean we need all the small talk,” she said.

“It’s not small talk, it’s a conversation,” Zuko said dryly. “I’m more than happy to sit here in silence with you for another six hours, but I think that’s pretty boring.”

“...It’s by the southern coast, near the Zeizhou provinces,” she relented after a moment. “It’s so small that you can’t find it on a map unless you know what you’re looking for. We didn’t even have an official name—if we had to, we called it South Zeizhou because that was the only notable thing near us.”

“What was it like?” he asked. “Growing up in a place like that.”

“It was nice,” she said. “We were almost completely isolated from other villages, so we were tightly knit. Everyone knew each other—I’m sure I knew each person by name by the time I was five—and everyone helped each other. We didn’t have much, but everyone was well taken care of. Our community was everything.”

“That sounds beautiful,” Zuko murmured.

“It was,” she agreed. “Until your people invaded it and destroyed it.”

Zuko went silent at that, but instead of the sick sort of satisfaction she normally experienced, she felt… guilty.

It wasn’t his fault. Zuko was only a year older than her—when her village was invaded, he was probably in school lessons or learning how to be a prince. And now he was here, going against everything he knew, everything he’d ever had, to try and make things right.

He was a child just like her. And with a father like Fire Lord Ozai…

“...I’m sorry,” she said, and his eyes darted up, a bit of shock visible in them. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I just…” she sighed. “I’ve never forgiven the Fire Nation for what was done to my people. And I guess you’re just the easiest target.”

“I understand,” he murmured. “And for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

“This doesn’t mean anything.” The words were quick to leave her mouth, and she didn’t look at him. “Just because I feel bad doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.” Nevertheless, she could still hear the smile in his voice.

“I know.”

More silence.

“What was your father like?” Zuko asked as he broke it. “You speak of him so fondly.”

She bit her lip at the question as the memories flooded back, and Zuko was stumbling over his words almost immediately.

“You— you don’t have to answer,” he said, “obviously, if it’s too much, but I—”

“He was the nicest man you’d ever meet,” she said softly. “He was always willing to help anyone who needed it, always willing to do far more than he had to if he thought it would make someone happy. And he did—he made my mother the happiest woman alive. He was beloved by everyone in the village.” Y/N swallowed hard. “He died to protect it. To protect me.”

“You’ve made him proud,” Zuko said. “I know you have.”

“I hope so,” she murmured. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

She meant to leave it at that, but for some reason, the words continued to flow. “But I… I’m worried about what will happen when I get there.” that they won’t recognize me when I come back.”

Zuko frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been years since I was there.” Y/N let go of the reins and wrung her hands together. She glanced down at the bandages, the rough fabric almost a comfort after her time without them. “I haven’t been back since I was captured. What if they resent me for not being there?”

“No one could possibly resent you for that,” he scoffed. “You were taken, Y/N, by soldiers. You were a child—what could you have done?”

“Anything,” she muttered. “If I had done anything, maybe things would have been different.”

“You can’t do that to yourself,” Zuko insisted. “You’ll drive yourself insane going down that path.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“Look at me.”

Y/N frowned. “What?”

“Turn around and look at me,” he said again. “And don’t do your stubborn I hate Zuko thing. Just humor me for once.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms as she turned around, looking him in the eye. “What?”

“Do you think it’s Katara’s fault that her mother is dead?”

The jump to the topic made her blink, recoiling the slightest bit. “What? No— spirits, of course not.”

“But she died to save her,” Zuko said. “The raiders were there looking for the last waterbender, and that was Katara. Her mother gave herself up in place of her.”

“That’s not her fault,” she said. “Her mother ch—”

It hit her then, and her eyes narrowed. “You’re not clever.”

The slightest smile tugged at Zuko’s lips and he shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re not clever,” she simply repeated, and she turned back around and grabbed the reins. She couldn’t see Zuko’s pleased expression as he adjusted his position in the saddle.

“Just trying to help,” he said, and his voice softened. “You’ve made your father proud, even if you don’t think so. You’ve made both your parents proud.”

She didn’t respond. She feared that if she tried to, the tears would spring. And she wasn’t going to cry.

But she appreciated his words more than he knew. Maybe even more than she knew.

But she couldn’t say that. And so they rode in silence.

“We’re almost here,” she announced, and she lightly tugged at Appa’s reins to get him to slow down. It had been a few hours of silent flying and navigating, but they’d made good time. By the spot of the sun in the sky, she could tell it was just before noon.

“Good,” he said.

They had been in the air for hours, starting even before the sun had risen, so it was no surprise when she glanced behind her and saw Zuko fighting off grogginess in the form of a barely stifled yawn.

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” she said, maybe a little too snippy.

“I wasn’t going to let you go alone,” Zuko said. “And even though you might not think so, I like being around you. I…” he sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“What?”

“I just want things to be the way they used to be,” he murmured. “But I know that can’t happen. And I know you’re tired of hearing it.”

“...I want that too,” she said quietly after a moment of hesitation.

She heard the rustling of leather and a sharp intake of breath, and it wasn’t hard to tell he was shocked by her words. And maybe she was shocked too, because she knew she meant them completely.

“Y/N,” Zuko started, “you—”

But then he was interrupted by her gasp.

“What?” he asked, only a moment of hesitation before he switched veins. He moved up beside her, and his eyes widened. “Flames of Agni…”

In the distance, she could see where the forest abruptly stopped. It went on for kilometers, the ashy remnants of fauna and chopped stumps. So much of the forest was just— was just gone. And in the center of it all…

Her village was unrecognizable. Houses made of wood and stone had been torn down and replaced with metal buildings, and the few original buildings that still were in disrepair, riddled with scorch marks and on the verge of falling apart. She could see armed Fire Nation soldiers manning certain spots around the village, as well as marching through the streets. They numbered far more than anyone in simple Earth Kingdom garb.

Flags and banners with Fire Nation insignias hung everywhere, but the worst part was the factory. It was as big as ten of their old homes, black, polished metal only good for serving as an eyesore. It pumped out acrid black smoke, and even from so far away it made her eyes sting. Her hands clenched into fists around the reins, and anger swelled up inside of her.

Everything that was held sacred in her village was gone, ruined by the Fire Nation for their own gain. Just like everything else in the world.

And she hadn’t even known about it.

“The Fire Nation is still here,” she said shakily. “I… I don’t know what I expected. I thought they would move on after the raid, but…” She barely managed to choke back a sob by clenching her jaw tightly. “They destroyed it all.”

“I’m so sorry.” There was horror in Zuko’s voice, and like her, he was unable to look away from the devastation. “I… If I had known…”

“Sorry isn’t going to fix anything,” she said bitterly, but it was more pained than anything.

“Then we will fix it,” he countered. Her eyes flicked up to him, the smallest bit of surprise visible. “We’ll take your village back and get the Fire Nation out, once and for all.”

Y/N’s grip tightened even further on the reins, her nails digging deep into her palms as she nodded. Her eyes hardened as they moved back to her village, and she nodded resolutely.

“You’re damn right we will.”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not okay,” she said. She wanted to snap at him, but she didn’t have the energy. Not after what she’d seen.

She and Zuko had set up camp a while away from her village, deep in what remained of the forest to give Appa enough cover. Though she wanted to light a fire, she knew it was too risky. And so they sat together on the ashy, barren ground, the air between them heavier than ever.

They were going to take back her village, that much was a given. The only question was how.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “It was a stupid question.”

“I just don’t understand,” she said weakly as she sat back on the ground. “Why would they stay in our village? We’re so far off the map that it’s probably costing them more to be here than not.”

“That’s what the Fire Nation does,” Zuko said. “They destroy everything they get their hands on.”

When Y/N looked up at him, he was staring at the ground, his jaw clenched.

“It’s about breaking their spirit,” he continued. “If they just left, your people could fight back. Get revenge for the invasion. But if they take over completely—”

“They crush an uprising before it has the chance to grow,” she murmured, “and they gain a workforce and all the natural resources they could want.”

“Yeah.”

Zuko’s voice was oddly quiet, stilted in a way she couldn’t place. She couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“What happened when you went back to the Fire Nation?”

Zuko glanced at her, swallowing hard before he looked away. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

“I do,” she said. “And I think I have the right to know.”

“Mai and I got together.” He sounded almost embarrassed, and she hated the twist of jealousy in her chest. “We talked during the entire boat ride home, and it went from there.”

“Oh,” she said stiffly. “So while I was sentenced to rot in prison for the rest of my life, you were getting busy with the girl who’s loved you her whole life.”

His cheeks flushed bright red in spite of the obvious anger. “That’s not what it was!”

“Really? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“We were both struggling,” he insisted. “I… I wasn’t handling Ba Sing Se well, and Mai was having doubts about everything. We gravitated towards each other in our misery, and— and it just happened.”

“You can’t honestly believe that’s true,” she snapped.

“You don’t know anything about Mai if you think it isn’t!” he exclaimed. “Neither of us were—”

“What?” she asked, brazen in his silence as he suddenly cut off. “You weren’t what?”

“…We realized that we didn’t like each other in that way,” he finished in a mumble. “Expectations pushed us together. Our own feelings pulled us apart.” Zuko looked back at her this time. “We couldn’t ignore our… our true feelings.”

“And what are those true feelings?” she asked. She couldn’t help the mocking tone in her voice, but the anger was beginning to come back. Mai had never been mean to her back in the palace, but it was hard to forget Omashu and Ba Sing Se. And it wasn’t exactly nice to hear that she and Zuko got together right after she was sentenced to a life in prison.

“I love you,” he said, “and you know that. But Mai, she—” Zuko shook his head and glanced away.

“What?” she repeated.

“...Do you remember Ty Lee?”

She frowned. “Yeah. She’s tried to kill me a couple times.”

“That’s who,” he said, and her eyes widened slightly. “They’ve always been close, but… I don’t know. Maybe the pressure of working under my sister brought them together. Maybe me being as horrible as I was pushed her away. But all I know is that Mai has feelings for her, and none for me. And I’m okay with that.”

“...Ty Lee,” Y/N said, and she managed a chuckle. “I think that’s the last pair I expected.”

Zuko cracked a smile. “It works, though. I hope they can figure something out.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Me too.”

But then Zuko’s expression sobered again as he looked at her, his gaze as piercing as ever. “You know I don’t like her. You know there’s nothing between us. A—and you said you wanted things to be the way they used to be.” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the edge of desperation in it. “So why can’t they be?”

“Why does it always come back to us?” she asked bitterly.

“Because I want there to be an us again so badly,” he said. Zuko’s voice was so genuine it pained her, and she hated how easily he was cracking her resolve.

The walls used to be easy to keep up, used to be gratifying. But now all it did was hurt. The night was cold, and she longed for his embrace.

But Zuko was fire. Beautiful, inviting, full of warmth, but able to hurt her just as easily.

And spirits, that was all she could think about as the scar on her arm stung. The burns on her hands had faded, and Ba Sing Se’s mark was nearly gone as well, but she couldn’t forget.

“Maybe there can’t be an us again,” she mumbled as she stood up. “And maybe we just both have to accept that.”

The look in Zuko’s eyes hurt, his downcast expression combined with the same longing she felt. So she walked away towards the forest, or rather what remained of it.

“I’m going to scout out our surroundings,” she said, though it was half-hearted. “I’ll be back when the sun starts setting. We’ll figure out a plan at nightfall.”

She’d disappeared into the woods soon enough. If Zuko said something, she didn’t hear it.

She held true to her word, and she was back by nightfall. Zuko had drawn a map of her village in the dirt with a stick, and though it was crude it was accurate. It turned out he had a better memory than she thought, and it also seemed that when they were working towards something like this, it was easier to work through the tension.

It took the better part of an hour for them to come up with something and actually agree on it, and it was still shakier than he liked—a lot of it relied on her people remembering Y/N the way that she remembered them. But it was a plan, and it could work, so it was good enough.

Soon enough, they were back on Appa, riding through the inky sky towards her village. Dressed in black from spares Zuko had in his bag—the same outfit he lended Katara during her mission, she was sure—they blended in perfectly.

“We’re here,” she whispered, and Zuko nodded as he sheathed his sword and moved up next to her on Appa’s head. “Do you remember the plan?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “Are you dropping down here?”

“Yeah. I’ll signal when I’m ready for you.”

He nodded again. “Good luck, Y/N.”

“...Thanks.”

She guided Appa closer to the ground, handing the reins off to Zuko when she thought she was close enough. She slid off as quietly as she could, her moccasins doing little to help with the shock of landing but good enough at muffling her movements. There were fewer guards than before, but it still made her nervous.

Y/N didn’t even dare to breathe as she moved through her village, ducking behind cover when she needed to as she made her way towards one of the only remaining houses. Despite the Fire Nation banner hanging across the front, it still felt like it was her village rather than another forced colony.

That was something, she supposed.

She pushed the door open quietly and pulled the fabric down from her face, checking once more to make sure there were no guards before she closed it. And when she turned around, she was met by a wide-eyed woman and a stark-faced man darting up from his spot on the floor.

It probably wasn’t the best look, showing up dressed in all black in the middle of the night while the village is occupied by soldiers. She could only hope they would recognize her.

“What are you doing in our home?” he demanded, but his wife shook her head.

“I must be dreaming,” she whispered, and she stood up as well. “Y/N? Is… is that you?”

“Leya,” Y/N said, and she felt the pinpricks of tears behind her eyes, “you remember.”

Leya laughed and clasped her hands together as she moved closer and pulled her into an embrace. “Of course I remember you, darling! How could I forget the little waterbender who always managed to soak my laundry just as it had finished drying?”

“Gan’s girl,” the man—Lao—marveled, and he laughed as well. “What in Kyoshi’s name are you doing here?”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said, slightly sheepish as she pulled out of Leya’s hug. “But basically… I’m here to save the village.”

Lao shook his head with a smile—that same smile she remembered from her youth, a mix of approval and surprise. “You haven’t been here since the invasion and now you’re here to save our village. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“What can I say?” she said with a slight laugh. “I’ve been busy with the Avatar.”

“The Avatar?” Leya asked, and Y/N held up her hand.

“As much as I’d love to tell you both what I’ve been up to all these years, we’re working on a schedule.”

“‘We’?” Lao caught. “Who else is here with you?”

She didn’t think she could exactly say the crown prince of the Fire Nation, no matter how reformed he claimed to be.

“A friend of the Avatar,” she decided. “He’s waiting for my signal. That’s when the action’s going to start.”

“What exactly is your plan?” Leya asked tentatively. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but our numbers aren’t the highest. Those who haven’t been sent away as laborers had their spirits broken long ago. There are very few with any kind of fight left in them.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ve got more than enough fight in me for this whole village. But I need your help.”

Lao nodded. “Anything.”

She smiled, a miniscule amount of weight dropping off her shoulders in relief. “Good.”

Appa was stashed securely in the woods, a rucksack full of moon peaches to keep him happy and quiet, but Zuko was still nervous.

How couldn’t he be, hiding behind a gaudy metal structure pretending to be a house that fit into this village? He was only the traitor boy prince of the Fire Nation, most likely with a wanted poster and a bounty on his head courtesy of his father.

He wasn’t scared, though.

Nervous? Sure. But he couldn’t wait to give these soldiers what they deserved.

Zuko’s eyes snapped towards the sudden movement across the way—the Fire Nation banner had been ripped down from the house Y/N went into, and the woman who did it held her fist in the air for a moment before darting back inside.

The signal.

It was time.

Zuko took a deep breath, pulled his broadswords out of their sheaths, and started moving.

It didn’t take long to find a guard, standing at his assignment near some light post. Zuko dashed behind him and brought his swords up to his neck.

“Stay quiet if you want to keep your head,” he said. “Nod if you understand.”

The guard nodded, but Zuko saw his hand clenching into a fist. He moved one sword down, and he froze in place as the sharp edge settled against his skin.

“No firebending either,” he growled. “You wanna test my patience some more, or are you ready to cooperate?”

“I— I’ll cooperate,” he stammered. “Just don’t hurt me, please. What do you want?”

It was almost pathetic. These people took over an innocent village, and now they were so confident that they stationed guards like this. Zuko wondered if this man even knew what had been done here.

“Good,” Zuko said. “Who’s in charge here?”

“General Lee,” he said, and Zuko had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Of course. “He— he’s the one who took over this place at the beginning. The one who ordered the invasion.”

“And where is he?”

“The biggest house at the end of the lane,” he said. “You— you can’t miss it.”

Zuko thanked the soldier for his information by knocking the flat end of one blade against his head, and he took a step back as the man fell to the ground, unconscious.

Step one complete.

“How is your earthbending?” Y/N asked. She and Lao moved swiftly through the village under the cover of darkness, avoiding soldiers where they were stationed as they conversed in low voices.

“Not as sharp as it used to be,” Lao said. “I’ve been hiding it since the invasion—otherwise they would have killed me or sent me away. What do you need it for?”

Once again, that sheepishness came back. The plan she and Zuko created sounded very outlandish when she said it out loud.

“I want to destroy the factory.”

“You certainly don't aim low, huh?” Lao chuckled a bit, but he flexed his hands nonetheless. He moved his fist forward and a short pillar of solid rock shot up from the ground. “I’ve still got some of it, at least.”

“That’s why I asked for your help,” she said. “The Fire Nation builds everything out of metal, but I think they forget that rocks are pretty effective against it.”

Lao smiled as he sent the rock back down into the earth. “I like how you think.”

She smiled as well, but her head shot up at the movement near them. She stepped protectively in front of Lao, her instincts above anything, but the tension dissolved when she saw it was just Zuko.

“Did you find out where he is?” she asked, and he nodded.

“His name is Lee— General Lee,” he said. “The last house,” he pointed, “that way. You can’t miss it.”

“Good.” She cracked her knuckles. “I have some things I’d like to say to him.”

“Y/N,” he said, “he’s…”

“What?”

“He’s the one who did all of this,” Zuko said. “The one who ordered the invasion. He’s been here ever since.”

Her jaw clenched as she felt fire ignite inside of her. “Then maybe I have a little bit more to say to him.”

“Take this.” Zuko took one of his swords off along with its sheath and handed it to her. “Just in case.”

She nodded, taking some satisfaction in her practice swings before she stashed it across her back, then she looked at Lao. “You two are going to take down the factory together. Is anyone in it still?”

He shook his head. “Shifts ended a few hours ago. It should be completely empty.”

“Good.” Y/N looked at Zuko. “How do you feel about causing some explosions?”

He smirked. “Pretty great.”

“And how do you feel about crushing a lot of stuff?” she asked, turning to Lao.

“Even better.”

“Great,” she smiled. “Obviously, this is going to make a lot of noise. Get out when you feel danger—we might have to bring this fight to the streets.”

Lao cracked his knuckles. “Gladly. It’s about time we take our home back.”

“Laya’s alerted the people?” Y/N asked.

He nodded. “She’s gone house to house—she should be near the end by now. She and the rest of our people will be safe, and anyone who’s willing to fight will be ready for my signal.”

“Then I think it’s time we split,” Y/N said.

“Be careful,” Zuko said. “Don’t let your anger blind you.”

“I’ll do what I have to do,” she said simply.

Zuko nodded in understanding. “See you on the other side, then.”

“See you on the other side,” she murmured.

Y/N got used to the weight of the broadsword in her hand as she moved through the village yet again. She was surprised at how easy it was, how inattentive the few guards were. Their confidence would be their downfall.

It wasn’t hard to find the house of the general. It was so massive it edged on gaudy, obviously built for nothing but the man’s ego. The door wasn’t locked, and she just shook her head as she slid inside. This was ridiculous.

She closed the door as quietly as she could behind her, and she held her breath as she looked around the first floor. It was eerily empty, eerily silent. Maybe he wasn’t here.

Y/N tightened the grip on the hilt of the sword as she crept up the stairs, wincing at every creak. The whole upstairs was the general’s room, and she shook her head. This was more luxury than anyone in the village lived in. He’d built his comfort off the pain of her people.

“Would you like to tell me what you’re doing in my home?”

She whipped around, her sword instinctively flying up as she stared right at her target. So he was here, and he’d been just as quiet as her. He was younger than she expected, but his eyes told everything she needed to know.

“General Lee,” she said, and she was surprised at how steady her voice was. “This isn’t your home.”

“Isn’t it?” He was dressed in a simple tunic and pants, no armor in sight. Good. “I was here when it was built, and as far as I’m aware, it was built for my use.”

“You took it from my people,” she said. “You took everything from us.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ve taken over a lot of villages.”

“Do you not have any shame?” Y/N demanded, and she pointed her sword at him. He didn’t even flinch. “Destroying the lives of innocent people, tearing apart their homes for resources, occupying them just to show off your strength. You kill people, you destroy families, and you don’t even care?”

The general had the nerve to smile. “It’s the way of the world. The weak fall, the strong prevail. I guess your people were just weak.”

Y/N couldn’t control herself after that. She yelled out as she lunged forward and swung with her sword. The general sidestepped her as she whirled back around, and he just laughed.

“You want to fight, girl?” General Lee mocked. “For what? Your people? Your honor? You won’t get far, I assure you.”

“For my family!” she growled. “Your men killed my father and forced my mother and I into servitude. I’ve wanted revenge for so many years, and now I can finally get it.”

His eyes lit with recognition and he raised his eyebrows. “The waterbenders. So you managed to escape—impressive.”

And then suddenly, there were two massive explosions. They were all the way across town, but it still rocked the foundations of the house. The impact must’ve been felt all over town, surely alerting every guard on duty that something was wrong.

Step two was complete.

It was Y/N’s turn to smile at the general. “There goes your factory.”

The general’s mocking confidence melted into cold anger. “You—”

“Blew it up,” she responded. “Yeah.”

She lashed out with her sword to force him out of the way, then booked it down the stairs and out of the house. She laughed in pure exhilaration as she saw all of the guards in the street, as well as the general running out of his house. The fire blazing in his hand matched the anger in his eyes.

“You want a fight, girl?” he growled. “I’ll give you one!”

General Lee launched the fireball at her and she dodged out of the way, watching as it sizzled against the ground. She held her sword in both hands, beckoning him to come further. It wouldn’t be an easy fight to win against an enraged firebender, but then again—she’d done it before.

He was far too eager to go against a young girl as he shot fire at her in repetitive blasts. She dodged what she could and slashed through the others with her sword, lunging at him with the blade when Lee gave her space.

But then fire shot past, narrowly missing her, and her head whipped around. It took these soldiers long enough to realize the fight was happening right next to them.

“Come on, Zuko,” she muttered as she backed away from the men, the general and the soldiers narrowing in on her. She brandished her sword. “Where are you?”

“You’ve picked a battle that you can’t finish,” General Lee spat as fire lit in his hand, “just like your father!”

Rage hotter than anything before ignited inside of her. And then, everything happened at once.

The general and his soldiers shot their fire at her.

Someone yelled at her to duck, and she dropped to the ground.

As the fire was extinguished above her, General Lee’s eyes widened. He took a step back. “What in Agni’s name—”

“I’m not too late, am I?” Zuko reached a hand down to her, and Y/N let out a relieved breath.

“Right on time,” she remarked as she took it and allowed him to help her up. “I’m in a bit of a situation.”

“I noticed.” Zuko turned to the general and gestured with his head behind them. “I’m sorry, general, but I think someone blew up your factory!”

“Prince Zuko,” he said sourly. “So you’re a traitor as well.”

“I’m not a traitor,” he said, stepping in front of Y/N ever so slightly. “I’m helping free these people from your glorified slavery.”

The general’s eyes narrowed. “So all it takes for the crown prince to give up his values is a pretty face.”

“You’re a sick man,” Zuko spat. “Take your soldiers, leave this village, and we’ll give you the mercy you never extended to her people.”

“I don’t think so,” Lee said, and he smiled. “Don’t worry, though—this’ll all be over soon. Unless you think you can go against every soldier here on your own.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been outnumbered,” Y/N said, and she drew her sword. “Besides—”

“—They’ve got help,” someone interrupted. She looked behind her and saw Lao, followed by a myriad of villagers—some earthbenders, some that were just ready to end this. More than she thought still lived here, more willing to fight than she thought.

So everyone’s spirit wasn’t broken.

She smiled. Step three.

“So you want to make this harder,” General Lee said. “I admire your tenacity, but it won’t do you much good.”

“We’ll see,” Zuko said.

Lee didn’t even say anything before he started firebending, and Zuko blocked it yet again. The battle immediately escalated from there, earthbenders and soldiers and swordsmen fighting. It was mostly visible in flashes of fire and the occasional lamppost, but it was loud.

Y/N and Zuko fought side by side against the general, their moves seamless—whenever one fell back, the other would step forward. She was surprisingly good with a sword, but it might’ve been her adrenaline.

With the amount of energy and anger pumping through her veins, she was sure she could take on anything at that moment. And having Zuko with her… She would be lying if she said it didn’t help.

It was a deadly dance between the three of them. Y/N’s sword sung as it cut through the air, and it was in sharp contrast to the explosions of fire in the background and the general’s own bending against them.

Maybe it was that adrenaline inside of her, or maybe it was the thought of finally getting to deliver justice for her village. Maybe the spirits were finally on her side. But whatever it was, General Lee ended up stumbling as he dodged the sword’s jab at him, and it gave her enough time for Zuko to kick him in the chest and send him backwards. Y/N took the opening and swept his legs, putting all her strength into the single move, and it worked.

He fell to the ground, a slight grunt being forced out as he landed on his back, and Y/N pointed her sword at his neck. She took immense satisfaction in the flicker of fear in his eyes.

“Zuko,” she said placidly, “go help the others.”

He looked at her for a good, long moment before he conceded with a step back. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I won’t regret this,” she murmured.

Zuko’s gaze remained on her for another moment before he turned and ran back into the fray. Y/N could do nothing but stare down at the general. The man who took everything away from her in one short afternoon, now defenseless below her blade.

“So,” she said, “after all this time, all it took was one fight for you to fall.”

The general gave her a wry smile. “It wasn’t exactly a fair fight.”

“Neither was the invasion of my village. But that didn’t stop you, did it?”

“You savages have never understood,” he growled. “No great leader has ever gotten anywhere by being nice, by yielding to the demands of those lesser than him. There’s a reason the Fire Nation is at the world’s helm while every other nation continues to fall to its feet.”

“Because you go after the defenseless!” she exclaimed. “You go after those who can’t do anything against you, and then you destroy everything you find. All you care about is power.” Y/N huffed a mirthless laugh and gestured around them. “And look where that’s gotten you.”

“Yield,” she demanded before he had the chance to speak, moving her sword closer to his neck. “Yield, and leave this village, and I’ll let you leave with your life.”

The general laughed, followed by a wince as her blade nicked his skin. “Don’t you know anything about the Fire Nation? You served there for so long.”

“Yield!” she shouted, her voice trembling along with her grip. She just wanted this to be over.

“We fight until death,” he continued. “You’re going to have to kill me if you want your way.”

“You think I won’t?” she challenged. ”You’ve taken everything from me! Your life is too small a price to pay for what you’ve done!”

“I think you’re weak,” he spat. “Too weak to do what you need to do.”

Her eyes stung with tears as she pulled the sword away from his neck.

General Lee huffed a laugh. “Like I said: you’re wea—”

He was stopped in the middle of his sentence as she plunged the sword into his heart. His eyes widened as he choked out his last breath, the light beginning to drain out of him. And then he was gone.

“I’m not weak anymore,” she murmured.

Y/N stared at his lifeless body for a moment, glanced at the gleam of blood on metal.

She had just killed a man. The one responsible for her father’s death, for the imprisonment of her and her mother, for the invasion of her village.

Y/N didn’t feel remorse, didn’t feel satisfaction—but she felt whole. Like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She sheathed her sword and walked away, back towards the chaos of the ongoing fight. Zuko had joined the others, fighting with a combination of his sword and his bending, and it worked wonders. For a moment, all she could do was watch him. The grace he fought with was akin to that of a waterbender.

Lao moved like he was twenty years younger, working in tandem with other earthbenders as they took down the Fire Nation forces soldier by soldier. Toph would have been proud.

But now there was only one thing left to do.

Y/N took a deep breath then cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling as loudly as she could. “Soldiers of the Fire Nation! Your general is dead!”

That was enough of a shock to knock them off their balance, because Zuko and the earthbenders all immobilized their foes. Zuko with a sword to the neck, Lao and his crew with rocks around their legs and other limbs. The fight died down quickly, all of them staring at her. Zuko’s expression was impossible to read.

“You heard me,” she repeated, “General Lee is dead. You have no stake in this village anymore. Leave, or face the same fate as him.”

“Will you stand here and fight for a nation that doesn’t care about you?” Zuko shouted, catching on to her goal. “Or will you do what’s right and leave these people be?”

Silence hung in the air, only broken by the heaved breaths of soldiers and earthbenders alike. She stared at them all expectantly, her heart pounding in her chest.

And then, the clatter of a sword against the ground.

“I surrender.” A soldier being held in place by rocks around her ankles had dropped her weapon, looking Y/N straight in the eye. “I’ve served the Fire Nation blindly for far too long.”

She nodded at the earthbender, and he retracted the stone around her.

“Go,” Y/N said. “Back to wherever you came from.”

“Your mercy…” the soldier murmured, and she shook her head. “Thank you for giving us a second chance. I know it means little, but I apologize. For everything.”

And then she walked off—in the direction of the shore, she noticed—and soon enough, she’d disappeared into the wood. They must’ve come in on ships.

Slowly, the remaining soldiers either dropped their weapons or declared their own surrender, and one by one they were let go. The sound of clattering metal was music to her ears, and with each one the weight lifted a little more.

The soldier in Zuko’s hold was the last to drop his sword, and Zuko kicked it away before removing his blade from his neck. As he walked away, she let out a sigh of relief.

“…We did it,” she said. “We finally did it.”

“You did it,” Zuko said as he sheathed his sword, doing the same to the other when Y/N handed it to him. “None of this would have been possible without you.”

“Wouldn’t have been possible without you either,” she said, and the smallest smile tugged at his lips.

Lao walked up to her, and he enveloped her in the biggest, tightest hug she’d felt since Katara’s at the air temple. She reciprocated immediately, tears springing into her eyes at the warmth he carried.

“You did it,” he said, his voice and eyes full of pride as he pulled away, though his hands remained on her shoulders. “You’ve given us the freedom that none of us could attain in seven years. We owe everything to you, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, unable to help her grin, and she looked back at the other villagers. “Any of you—thank you so much. Tonight, you fought for our people! You fought for our village! And we’re finally free from the Fire Nation.”

A wild cheer erupted from the group, and Y/N had to wipe away the tears that began to fall. They’d really done it.

“Go, be with your families!” she exclaimed. “Celebrate with your loved ones! You deserve it—enjoy your freedom!”

Several of the villagers clapped her on the shoulder or shook her hand as they began to wander around, returning back to their houses. She heard one discussing architectural plans, about what they would do with everything the Fire Nation left behind, as well as their houses. The smile wouldn’t leave her face.

And then Zuko walked up, alerting her to his presence by clearing his throat. “Y/N,” he said, and she turned around.

“What?”

“First of all, congratulations.” His own small smile was there, and she felt her cheeks warm. “You freed your village from a seven year occupation. It’s amazing.”

“It feels amazing.” She rubbed her arms, the cold of the night beginning to get to her as her adrenaline from the battle started to fade. “I can’t believe we did it.”

“I’m not surprised,” Zuko said. “You can do anything you put your mind to—I’ve learned that twenty times over by now.”

She chuckled a bit, but Zuko’s expression sobered. “But I have to ask. You… you killed the general.”

The air between them immediately changed. “I did.”

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I don’t feel happy,” Y/N said, “so you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going to start killing everyone that’s ever wronged me.”

Zuko laughed, though it was slightly nervous. “That’s, uh— that’s good.”

“But I don’t feel sad either,” she said. “I just feel… right. Like it was something I had to do. Not just for my people, but for me. To know that he’ll never be able to hurt someone the way he hurt me.”

“...Good,” Zuko repeated. “That’s all we can ask for, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “But… I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us. At least until I’m ready to tell everyone.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

“Good,” she said.

Y/N looked up at the sky, the sun having fully set. It was dark except for the bits of ashes that littered the battlefield and the lanterns that lit up the path through the village. But there was still something she needed to do.

She looked back at Zuko. “I have something I need to see. And I want you to come with me. Is… is that okay?”

He smiled, his voice soft when he spoke. “I’d love to.”

The path she led him down was one well-traveled by the people of her village—the inky darkness they walked through was penetrated only by the flames Zuko held in his hand at Y/N’s request. She knew she would be able to find her way without it, though.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Somewhere special,” Y/N answered. “Sad, but special. Somewhere I’ve thought about a lot since my mother and I were taken.”

It took a few more minutes of walking in silence only disturbed by night ambiance. When they got there, Y/N let out a quiet sigh. There was unimaginable weight behind the sound.

“We’re here.”

“Where is ‘here’?” Zuko asked tentatively. But then he made the fire in his hand bigger and brighter, and his breath caught in his throat.

“...Hi, Dad,” she said softly, her gaze focused on the headstone. “It’s me. Your little girl finally found her way back home.”

“Y/N…” he murmured.

“I’ve been wanting to come here for a long time, but I’ve never been able to,” she continued. “But you don’t have to worry anymore—the village is free. The Fire Nation is gone. And Mom is okay—she’s safe in Ba Sing Se, and after all of this is over, I’m going to find her again, and I’m going to take care of her. You don’t have to worry about us anymore.” Y/N chuckled. “I’m sure I’ve been driving you crazy with everything I’ve been doing lately. But you can rest in peace now.”

“Are you sure you want me here?” he asked. “I— I don’t want to disturb you—”

She shook her head, placing her hand lightly on his arm. “Stay. Please.”

“...Okay,” he said. “Of course.”

“This is Zuko,” she said, and she laughed a bit as he hesitantly waved. “He’s… he’s the most important person in my life.”

His eyes widened a bit and he looked at her, but her only response was to wordlessly slip her hand into his. He didn’t hesitate to lace his fingers through hers.

“We’ve been through a lot together, and I’ve… I’ve been really angry at him lately. And I thought it was good, righteous anger, but all it did was eat me up inside. I’ve been miserable because of it—I even lost my bending. But now… now, I understand.”

She looked at Zuko now. His gaze hadn’t moved.

“I love you,” she said, “and I mean that with everything in me. I’ve been so angry at you because of what you did that I haven’t let myself think about anything that you’ve done—and you’ve helped my friends so much since you joined them. You’ve helped me too, even when I claimed I didn’t need anyone.”

“And all this time, I thought that letting you go was what I needed to do. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.” She tightened her grip on his hand—her lifeline. “I’ve lost so much in my life, Zuko, things that I can’t get back. And I’m not going to let myself lose you again.”

Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to Zuko’s lips, and he extinguished the fire in his hand as he immediately reciprocated it. It was impossibly soft, impossibly right. And Y/N knew then that this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“I love you too,” he murmured, and his eyes shone even in the darkness. “More than anything. And I’m so sorry that I ever made you think anything else.”

She pulled away from the kiss to embrace him, and when his arms wrapped around her, it was like home. The constant twist in her chest, the constant weight she’d been carrying for months—it dissipated, and she felt lighter than ever. Spirits, it all felt so right.

And when they pulled away, Y/N rested her head on Zuko’s chest. He responded by wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her in close.

“Thank you for taking me here,” he said. “For trusting me enough with it.”

“Thank you for never giving up on me,” she said.

“Speaking of that…” Zuko said, and there was a slight lilt to his voice as he lit the fire in his hand again. “How about trying that bending again?”

Y/N chuckled a bit as she looked at her hand, flexing her fingers the way she used to. She barely had to concentrate as she pulled moisture from the air, forming into an orb of water in the air. She wasn’t even shocked—she’d known, after they got here. It wasn’t anything concrete, just… a feeling. A feeling that order had returned.

“It’s back,” he said, and the boyish surprise in his voice made her smile.

“That it is.”

Y/N formed it into a flower and then froze it, gingerly taking the stem in her fingers. She walked up to her father’s grave, running her fingers over the engravings. She wasn’t here when it was made, but she was so thankful it had been made. That her people had always been thinking of her and her family.

GAN

HUSBAND OF KURA, FATHER OF Y/N

48 AG-93 AG

WILL BE REMEMBERED FOR HIS LOVE AND HEROICS

It was bittersweet, but she was glad he had a spot here. He would always be remembered.

She carefully placed the flower of ice against the headstone, lowering the temperature of her breath as she blew on it to preserve it longer. It would melt eventually, of course, but this wouldn’t be her last time here. Next time, there would be real flowers.

“I love you, Dad,” she murmured, resting her head against the stone as she closed her eyes. “Forever and always.” She stayed there for a moment, and the gentle breeze that blew through the enclave was no coincidence. For the first time in a very, very long time, she felt peace inside.

She stood back up with a sad smile, wiping at the tears before she turned to Zuko. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded. “I am.”

Zuko nodded too, and they started to walk together down the path.

And when he offered his hand, she took it without hesitation.

hope you enjoyed this mf emotional marathon of a chapter lmao im gonna go hibernate for a few months because jfc

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#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x reader fic #zuko #zuko fic #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fic #atla fic #avatar the last airbender fic #atla x reader #avatar x reader #sadie writes #ehfar

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purpleamethystsblog · 2 years ago

Text

🪬I WILL TAKE BACK WHAT'S MINE (Part 4 )🪬

CW : none

Pronounce : She / Her

Gender : Female ( Cause it easy for me to write and I don't really write English fanfics often like other. )

Note : This story might not follow the original game storyline.

🪬⚠️🪬⚠️🪬⚠️🪬

<< Part 3 : Part 5 >>

🪬⚠️🪬⚠️🪬⚠️🪬

He couldn't doubt the Creator God.

He firmly believed in the rules he had established since he was not yet an Geo Archon ruling over Liyue.

Even if the Creator God had any bad behaviours or used any foul words, he never questioned them. Because if he had any doubts, that would mean he had rebelled against the Creator God.

Zhongli always thought like this, even though sometimes he was injured by the Creator God's hand, he never angry. It has not been long since the Creator God returned to life, and sometimes her power may not be stable.

He hold the Wanted poster in his hand, all peoples in poster are people of Mondstadt, and the women that he never met before, she's the leader of rebellion group, the rumours said she claim herself as the true Creators.

His blood boiled when he heard that, how dare you claim yourself that you are the real one when the REAL is still sit on her throne?

‘ Please think carefully, Morax. The consequences that follow will not only affect you but also the people of Liyue. ’

Tsaritsa's voice replays in his head again, she came to visit him around last week. And warned him about what he has done, but Zhonli is Zhongli, he believed that all of his actions are right, whether it's a decision or adherence to his own ideology.

‘ Then, you want to betray our Creator? ’

‘ I did not betray her, and I would never do such a thing. It's only you who are betraying to her, Morax. ’

‘ What makes you think that way, Tsaritsa? You are the one who is betraying the divine creator. ’

‘ Feel like I'm talking with a giant rock. You probably not listen to me anymore. If that's the case, I wish you good luck with your decision. ’

🪬

Ganyu always asked herself in her mind.

Did is so wrong if she doubt in her Creator?

This question is never slip out from her mouth once. She know the consequence that will follow after that.

Why?

Just, why?

She watch the peoples in Wanted poster, just a second of thought she want to be the one of the rebellion group.

She can feel something doesn't right from the Creator who sit on the throne in the present.

She feel like, if she is the REAL GOD why did she reincarnated then?

Did the god of above the all gods can die?

She's wonder.

“ What are you thinking? ”

The calmness voice that she familiar with, the another adeptus was coming behind her.

“ Nothing, I'm just get some fresh air, that's all ” Ganyu didn't dare to say directly, she know who he is and how his connection with Morax, or Zhongli for now.

The one who's closest to Morax, follow every his command with no hesitation.

Vigilant Yaksha : Xiao

“ About the Creator. ” Suddenly, the yaksha said it out lound, make Ganyu flint.

He standing beside her, the two of them watching sky in silent for a minutes, and then Xiao speak up.

“ I didn't agree with hunt order. And I know you're think the same as me, correct? ”

Ganyu didn't say anything, she don't know how to answer back or how to react to this situation.

“ I can sense your answer, if you didn't dare to say it. That's the true answer from you. ” Xiao continued.

“ I didn't believe in that Creator from the start, I can smelt her bad karma and evil under her skins. ”

Ganyu wanna tell him to stop, but she didn't dare to do it either. So then, Xiao just continued what's he thinks.

“ And I didn't believe in this person too. Until I'm see her with my own eyes, not in this poster. ”

Xiao raise the poster that have your face on it, infront Ganyu's face. His voice is remaining calm.

“ I didn't know why 'him' cling to his decision and rules, that everyone haven't the right to get doubt in our Creator? ”

It seems like Xiao wants to express his feelings to someone. And that someone is Ganyu.

“ Another adeptus is curious too, but we all can't say anything like you too. ”

🪬

“ May the nature protect us. ”

Your team are traveling in Guili plain now, the nature help you and every monsters are nice to you all. They protect you and lured the soldier of Liyue stay away from you.

Liyue isn't a great places to hide, you and your team will heading to Sumeru instead. That's place is bigger more than Liyue. And it might be safer more than Liyue.

If Snezhnaya welcome you, maybe you will agree to build a shelter in that coldness nation.

Don't talk about Inazuma, that's place is hard to travel and Raiden Shogun might not please if you come in there. You don't want yourself and your team get strike by her thunderbolt.

“ We gonna take some rest in a small cave in Guili plain, I prefer Diluc, Rosaria and Albedo guard outside the cave, I will preparing foods. ”

You said before Mona stop you.

“ Y- your excellency! Please, you just sitting here and I will prepare a food by myself! ”

“ Don't worry, I can prepare a meal! You just sit and I will do it myself, Mona! ”

Mona flint, the argument end easily and you prepare all the meal that you think it will enough for everyone in team.

“ DON'T YOU DARE!! ”

You put everything down before running to entrance, it's Diluc's voice that raised in anger tone. It might be an enemies is approaching.

“ I won't hesitate to fight you! If you come here to arrest our Excellency! ” Rosaria speaks, she raise her weapon to an enemies face with no fear, even if the enemies is stronger than her. She will fight till her last breaths to protect the true Creator of Teyvat.

“ I didn't come here to fight. ”

That man said, he standing still Infront Diluc, Rosaria and Albedo. All men don't trust his sentence. So, you suddenly come out from the cave.

“ What happen? ”

“ Y- your grace! You shouldn't come out from cave!! ” Diluc said in panic, Rosaria and Albedo remain silent.

“ I should, I don't want everyone get injured or hurt by an enemy without do something. ”

You said, eyes trail to intruder that standing infront you with silent.

S̿͏taͦy̻̚ ̗̔͡s̬̈́t̚͡il̛l̢̟̚,̼̓ ̯d͏o̐n̗͒'͎t͝ ̴̬c̤ͪ͜o̫͘m̼e̤ ̹a͍ͦ͞n̛͎y̌ c̨̜l̹ȏ͢s̷̄e̡̳ͪŗ̫̏ ̰t̠o̐͠ ͚̔h̷͔ͣer̤͝.ͧ ̙ͦI̯ ̖̐͜w̴͛a̕r̩ͯ͏ne̙̍d ̶yoͭu!̸

Flowey pop out from nowhere, the deep voice of its, sound very scary. But that guy infront of you didn't make any move.

“ What a creature? Hmm, I never heard it before. ”

“ I think you don't want to come here just to comment about my flower right? Yaksha Xiao. ”

🪬

“ How sad, I didn't expect that Zhongli sensei gonna do this~ ”

The young men said while watching all paperwork on his desk. The business of Fatui on Liyue are all canceled.

“ Hmmm, I wonder where our Creator is traveling now? ”

“ Sir! We have a big news to inform you sir! ”

“ What's news? ”

“ They're arrived in Guili plain but some adeptus is approaching them! ”

Childe run out from his camp immediately, he will protect you no matter what. He doesn't only do by Tsaritsa's order, but he willingly to protect you from his heart.

🪬

“ And how can I believe that you didn't lie to me? ”

You asked Xiao, who was now being restrained by Flowey. He was no different from a criminal now.

“ I know I'm the closest person to 'him', but that doesn't mean I agree with everything he does, even though I respect 'him' ” Xiao said with a heavy tone.

“ Don't you agree with your creator? How funny, we're just a small group rebelling against your creator! ”

You said with a stern voice. Xiao looked at you before looking away.

"I'm not against that. As I said, I just came to protect you... Your highness."

What should you do?

It's hard to trust everyone that doesn't in your rebellion team, especially Xiao, the adeptus or Yaksha that only follow Zhongli's command.

“ If you lie to us, I swear that you will pay for what have you done more than pain that we get ten fold! ”

This power.....

It's far beyond to compare with that one is sitting on the throne.

Yes, he ever met the creator in Mondstadt once, but the atmosphere around her isn't good. He decided not to visit her anymore. But he still can remember the feeling when he has around her.

Filthy, foul scent, karma.

But you are different. Your scent is a refreshing, pure air. Your soul is clear and pure.

However, the pressure you exert is similar to Morax's. When you spoke with a heavy tone, it made him shudder. His legs seemed to weaken, and he wanted to kneel infront you and apologize to you right then and there.

But he was still restrained by Flowey.

“ Release him, Flowey. ”

Flowey hesitate a little bit, before he released Xiao follow your order. Xiao kneel infront you immediately, everyone that watching this scene gasp.

“ I'm sorry your highness, sorry for everything that I have done. ”

Xiao's voice shaking, you raise your eyebrows in confused before give him some head pat.

“ You are not wrong. I know it's hard for you to do this. But you should do your best Xiao. ”

He feel like, he didn't want to use that name anymore, but he didn't want to use Alatus either.

You know that it isn't easy if he broke the contract that he ever made with Zhongli. You don't want him to get risk with this choice, because just he handed an offer to protect you until you reach to Sumeru. That's mean, he broke the contract between Zhongli more than 70%.

It end with Xiao retreated, but he said that he will protect you and your team from afar. You didn't mind if he want to do that. But you purpose to rest about 20-30 minutes before continue to travel again.

🪬

“ Maybe, not all people of Liyue is an idiot? ”

Childe muttered, he sat in the shadow around 5-10 minutes ago. He was only observing the surroundings, because he saw that there was no fight. So he decided to sat here.

“ That's a nice choice! Mmmm, should I come to visit her for a little bit? ”

🪬⚠️🪬⚠️🪬⚠️🪬

<< Part 3 : Part 5 >>

🪬⚠️🪬⚠️🪬⚠️🪬

Before I write this to Tumblr, I just planning to write only one-shot but........

Okay~ this is my imagine Y/N in my mind. You can change if you don't like it^^

#Genshin Impact #cult #sagau #sagau impostor au #Reader being villainess later #Genshin Impact x Reader #x Reader #Reader #Reader will have no mercy later #Reader will being killing spree later #Reader is antagonist #purpleamethysts

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silin-vigil · 1 year ago

Text

Silin glanced over at her grandmother’s ashes, even with magic one could not stop the process of aging. Slow day? Sure, but her grandmother had graced the earth for hundreds of years, and time for her was up. She no longer walked this earth, it ached. She had no one and nothing. Her grandmother had gradually handed her everything of importance to her. Witch debts were often times repaid in years, or in jewels or gold. Other debts were generational, which often cases meant saving someone from the brink of death or saving them from death. While Silin and her family were white witches. Silin was well aware her grandmother was beings frequently took advantage of, and it was only proved further the more she learned of the debts she would soon collect for her. Beings were repaying the favor of magic in crumbs, making her blood boil. She valued life, just like her grandmother had, but it did not mean they should be doormats. That was a lesson Silin learned far too young, far too naive, but she had loved. Loved foolishly and loyally to only catch her betrothal in bed with her mother, her own mother. If her own mother could betray her, why would humans, fairies, and elves not? She had grown cyclical, perhaps even miserable, as her grandmother had stated in attempts to talk some sense into her. But she was not wrong, Silin firmly believed that. Her mother, the witch who gave birth to her? Her own flesh and blood, and her warlock, had betrayed her when she had done nothing but love them? She expected nothing less from the world, and each and every day she was proven right. Now more than ever as she visited each of the towns her grandmother had to collect. Rearranging the terms of their debts. Only to be met with defiance and resistance, some even tried to harm her. Her patience grew thin as she nearly finished with the list for her grandmother, glancing down, noticing it was a family of winter fairies. Silin knew enough about fairies, mostly because of her grandmother. This particular family had been truly given her grandmother crumbs for what she had done for them. Saving their youngest from death. Her grandmother had given them a recipe for them to make for their kid to drink every year for health. Silin lifted her hood as she walked deep into the forest. It had to be during the dawn hours, the instructions of her grandmother echoing in her mind. Passing a leafless ancient bristlecone, staring in awe for a couple of moments, to be an earth witch was a blessing from the gods. Placing her hand on the trunk of the tree, causing the ground beneath her to shift softly, as roots slightly moved from her magic. Carrying on with her task, she came upon the cave covered in poison ivy. Glancing around for any animals, or people. Silin was very in tune with foliage, trees, plants, and rocks, but animals? Not as much as she would have liked. Wrapping her hand around one of the roots and gently tugging on it, as if it were a church bell ringer. The plant immediately parted allowing her entrance, “Okay grandma.” Silin whispered to no one but herself, wondering why her grandmother had taken so many safety measures with this family. But she would make them pay her back in full. Glancing around for the rock with a pointed edge, sitting on her knees and pushing it to reveal a snowflake-shaped pendant, wiping the dirt from it, roots keeping it perfectly encased and secure. Silin dangled her hand over it, whispering a soft mantra. Her magic, a mixture of white and gold, dripped from her fingertip onto the roots, which caused them to move to slither like serpents away from the amulet. Grabbing it, and blowing on it to further clean it. Crystal clear, smudged with dirt, but it was a snowflake shaped, there was no doubt. Silin rubbed the amulet five times on each side as instructed. Standing up slowly and acutely aware, waiting for something to happen. Only to be meant with silence, complete silence, which was not normal. Hearing the sound of ice breaking, only to notice that frost was settling over the rocks and dirt.

Everything that surrounded her now had a thin layer of frost. Her head snapped in the direction of the portal, causing her hood to fall from her head. Fairy after fairy stepping out of the portal, she had not expected the whole family. She imagined only one would come, but she figured it was for the best. There would be no room for confusion or error in their communication. Glancing at the family, her eyes easily spotted the younger fairy, a full-grown woman now much like Silin. “You expected Theodora, but my grandmother passed away a few months ago.” She explained, figuring she would not have to prove her lineage given that she had access to them. It was something that only they would know, and well now, her. “I am Silin.” She introduced herself, reaching into her satchel to pull out a brown leather journal. “My grandmother shared a recipe to help save your daughter, a potion you must give her yearly.” Sharing information they surely knew, but she wanted to leave no room for them to question who she was. “It is a three-generational debt, and what you have paid her all these years has not even made a dent in your debt.” She informed them coldly. But it mattered little to her what they thought of her. She pointed a finger at the fairy woman and beckoned her with her finger, “You, you will come back with me to start paying off what your family owes.” It only seemed fair they paid her grandmother and her back in labor at this point, the payment was no longer beneficial. “I have many jobs for a fairy-like yourself,” Silin stated. Horror passed through her eyes, which amused Silin wondering what they were thinking she meant. “Those are my new terms, either you accept or I will make sure that recipe is of no use.” She was cornering them, but she was doing exactly what she had done with the others. They were no exception, it mattered little what relationships they had with her grandmother, they clearly had taken advantage of her.

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silentchamp · 1 year ago

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flashback + Mt. Silver

Flashbacks. | accepting.

The frigid air bites and nips at his skin as snow gently rocks downward. Red inhales, expelling a deep cloud of fog as he walks along a particularly treacherous mountain cliff. Boots are thick with wetness, icy cold beneath him beginning to seep into his socks. He’d take it like the champion he was though, continuing his trek between the heavy banks of snow surrounding him. Amongst all its chaos, Red found peace atop Mt. Silver, even with his lack of preparedness.

If anything, the boots were a delivery alongside his rival’s latest brief visit, a gift from his mother. A winter coat sits back at home in his cavern, Pika and Espe probably nestled inside to keep themselves cozy alongside the well-lit fire pit.

It was just Red outside in his lonesome, not bothering to rope any of his team outward into this freezing weather. It was chillier than usual that day anyway, even with the soft snowfall. Bucket in hand, the brunette presses it into the fresh snow beneath him, tugging it inward with a heavy grunt. As new as it was, it was still heavy, ice molding with the pillowy substance.

Despite his youth, having just been a teenager, Red’s arms had thickened up since first arriving upon Mt. Silver’s wretched yet gorgeous arches and cliffs. It was a dreary expanse, yet pretty all the same. Untouched by wildlife as well as people, any creature with half a brain knowing fully of her dangers. She was not a force to be reckoned with, this mountain, and yet Red had decided to throw himself full throttle at her, an unstoppable force against an immovable object. He’d seemingly conquered her too, unwilling to give in to the demands of the harsh weather and intense temperatures that, even at times, would threaten to dive below freezing.

It was a challenge to him, maybe. Then again, it’s more likely Red preferred the isolation.

Another grumble, teeth grind as a young Red scoops up the snow, lugging the pail of snow toward his makeshift humble abode. An imprint of his foot is left with each step, a crunching noise present each and every time he’d move.

Red’s arms were dry, ashy; skin clearly not meant to sustain such horrendous climates. Knuckles seemed to crack at their peaks, a scab or two healing over from skin having broken previously. He was good at taking care of the bare necessities, but anything further and the trainer would fail. He’s unbeatable, but at what cost?

Despite everything though, he’d managed to make do. His current objective was to bring back the snow in-hand, let it melt, and boil it to remove any dangers. Drinking water was a priority to keep himself up; he’s just hoping that the berries he set to grill weren’t burnt upon his return.

He scowls in disapproval as snow enters his boot, immediately melting against his ankle. It makes him grumble, using one hand to fix his hat in an attempt to calm himself. Red liked Mt. Silver, but that didn’t mean he liked being inconvenienced.

With a tiny bit more effort, Red is able to recover quickly, hustling back inside of his temporary home. His nostrils are immediately wafted with the smell of slightly-charred fruit melded with a sour-tart tint. Despite the climate and abhorrent weather, aspear and yache berries were native to the mountain's very miniscule flora. Aside from the varying treats Green would occasionally bring for Red’s enjoyment, his primary diet consisted of those fruits, nothing more. He’d often make a grocery list for his pokemon, but seemingly couldn’t stomach the thought of making one for himself. Red was particularly simple, but that didn’t mean his pokemon were--and even if his thoughts on this entire situation weren’t perfect, he was still considerate enough to think of his team.

They were his family, after all. The thought of neglecting them made his stomach turn.

So Red sets the bucket of snow down beside the fire, tugging up a thick branch of pine from the pile he’d scouted for earlier that day. He carefully attempts to add it to the flame for fuel, tongue sticking out at the corner of his lip in focus.

Red shoots upward as a soft, high-pitched groan reverberates from across the flame, Pika rolling over in her spot atop Sleepy, Red’s snorlax. She’d abandoned the winter coat long ago, opting to lay atop the giant bear’s cozy tummy. His concerned expression contorts into an easy one, doting smile etched into his lips as his inner brow curves upward. The champion opens his mouth to say something before shutting lips again, deciding it’d be best not to accidentally disturb her slumber; or anybody’s for that matter, it seemed. Char laid cozy in a ball alongside Blasty, charizard and blastoise curled into one another comfortably. Venus, Red’s venusaur, laid flat on her tummy, snoring at an almost absurd volume…but she was old, the frog could get away with it. Espe sat in the corner of the cave, tail twitching as he kept watch of everybody else like the greatest hall monitor you’d ever seen, or rather an overprotective mother.

It wouldn’t be until Red sits back down and shucks off his giant, clunky boots that he sits cross-legged by the fire pit, the espeon taking this as his invitation to make his presence known.

In silence, the brunette extends a hand for the eeveelution to sniff and observe, studiously running the side of his maw to study his trainer further. Eventually, he trots into Red’s lap with lithe steps, twirling once or twice before resting in a ball between his trainer’s lap. It’s a quiet interaction, Red knew he was saying hi, and in return he’d do the same. One hand softly pets the creature, and he keeps that caring smile, appreciative of the purple cat’s company.

The berries could wait, burnt or not. He had family to attend to.

#>asks.#greenxprof

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notoriousquil · 8 months ago

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WHISPERS FROM THE TALES OF SORSOGON

When I was a kid, I heard stories from my great-grandmother, who hailed from the municipality of Juban in Sorsogon. She came from a very humble family, although I barely knew anyone because I never bothered asking. However, every time I visited for a sleepover, I would ask her about her stories from her town, mostly scary tales from their barrio. She would recount these stories while sitting on her rocking chair, with me perched on the arm of the chair. Sometimes, she would share these tales while we 'himay' the malunggay leaves or "tahop" the bad grains from the rice grains before washing and cooking them.

I remember she told me about her teenage years when most of the houses in her small communal town in Juban were made of nipa or bamboo. She recounted how, during that time, the majority of the townsfolk attended church at night, leaving her alone at home and running late for the service. As she stepped out of her house, she was greeted by the delicious aroma of "linanot." "Mmmmm, hamot kan linanot (ang bango ng linanot)," she uttered as she followed the scent until she reached its source. To her surprise, she found a woman lying flat on the ground, face down, her body oiled up. Despite her fear, she sensed something sinister was afoot, especially noting the telltale signs of an "aswang," such as the oils on the body and the sense of transformation. Terrified, she fled to the safety of the church without informing anyone. After the church service, she mustered the courage to return to the house where she had made the chilling discovery. By then, the linanot had burnt, and she found the roof and window open. Residue of the oil was scattered on the floor, confirming her unsettling encounter with her neighbor.

Another chilling story that was told to us as children is about my great grandmother's ability to sense and identify an aswang disguised as a human. She recounted an incident where, during the night, a man approached her and offered her "dinuguan," a dish she loved. However, she sensed that something was off that time, so she decided to recite an "orasyon" (prayer). To her surprise, the "dinuguan" began bubbling as if it were being boiled. Frightened, she threw the dish away and offered a prayer for protection.

In Sorsogon, Juban is often stereotyped as the municipality of the "aswangs," largely due to its historical association with babaylans. According to Ordoñez (2012), citing Luis Dery, a historian from Gubat, with the arrival of the Spaniards, the friars demonized the faith healers and shamans as witches or mangkukulam, similar to how the Church portrayed "pagan" priests and priestesses in Europe. Despite this stereotype, if anyone visits the beautiful municipality of Juban, they would witness how the old houses from the Spanish times are still erected and restored as tourist attractions.

In my other side of the family, who are descendants of Bacon and Albay, we have heard different encounters passed down through generations. Growing up, anyone from Sorsogon would know how frequent brownouts were, and even as I matured, eerie stories persisted, often recounted by my grandfather, whom I affectionately call "Wowo." He is a retired major, known for his macho demeanor. During brownouts, with only candles to light our way, he would regale us with tales from Bacon, his hometown. He often spoke of a massive "balete" tree in Bacon, which seemed to be the epicenter of accidents and unexplainable events. According to him, locals shared stories of a mysterious figure dressed in white who would linger near the tree, adding to its eerie reputation.

In other instances, directly affecting us, when one of us children fell seriously ill with symptoms that baffled doctors, we would seek the help of a "parahilot." These were usually elderly women known for their use of essential oils mixed with gasoline for traditional healing. As children, we were apprehensive about undergoing such treatments, often feeling scared of the old women who performed them. One of the most trusted "parahilots" we called upon was named "Tiya Redi," the grandmother of my elementary school classmates who lived in Baribag, Sorsogon. Her expertise in traditional healing was unparalleled, and her loss left a void in our community.

Unfortunately, finding another "parahilot" with her level of skill proved challenging. Most of the practitioners in Sorsogon are elderly women, and the tradition appears to be fading as young parents opt for modern medical care, preferring to take their children to pediatricians. However, despite technological advancements, belief in "parahilots" remains strong among older generations. When a "parahilot" is unable to resolve an issue, a "para santigwar" is often called upon to assist. This individual helps identify the root cause of the illness using just three materials: a match, a candle, and a plate. Through this ritual, they can determine which supernatural entity may be responsible for the affliction and suggest remedies to address it. Then, all is believed to be well once an incense has been burned and its smoke allowed to permeate throughout the house, driving away any dark entities that may linger.

Now in the workforce, I thought stories like this would remain as memories until I met coworker turned very close friend from Irosin, Sorsogon telling me that her father was a faith healer and that they’re part of an association of faith healers in Sorsogon. With her consent, I am only allowed to tell very minimal details of their ability. She said that her father became one of the faith healers because he survived a severe illness, which led them to believe that he had a different calling. She explained that they had feared their father would not survive because he was enchanted by an "engkanto," which resulted in an illness that could have either driven him insane or caused his death. However, he was healed by a faith healer, and this event encouraged him to pursue the same path. Though her father no longer practices faith healing, during his prime, he and his group would travel from town to town, dedicating years of their lives healing people of their illness. She told us that their father passed down his ability and taught them how to use it, she said some of them are able to identify when something bad is going to happen to a person, identify what future illness you’ll have in the future, and they can also identify what kind of personality whether a good or bad person is. Faith healing remains within their family, but now they only apply it to themselves. She mentioned that few people believe in it anymore, emphasizing that for healing to occur, the individual must have faith in the process; otherwise, it won't be effective.

These memories shaped my understanding of storytelling in small towns or municipalities. In such communities, oral tradition is cherished, and stories are passed down from generation to generation, carrying with them the essence of the place and its people. Through these tales from their experiences, I learned the importance of preserving these narratives, as they not only entertain but also serve as a link to our roots and collective identity. Oral stories like this have played a crucial role in shaping my perspective and fostering an open-minded attitude. They've taught me the importance of respecting each other's beliefs and cultures, recognizing that behind every tradition lies a profound history that has shaped our identities and bonds us together through shared experiences. These narratives serve as a bridge connecting us to our ancestors and heritage, helping us understand the diverse tapestry of humanity. By embracing and honoring the richness of our cultural narratives, we not only celebrate our individuality but also cultivate a deeper sense of empathy and understanding towards others.

In the "Arkibo ni Kadunonong: Anthology of Bikol Oral Literature," researchers successfully compiled a collection of oral literature in Bikol languages. However, this achievement prompts me to ponder the vast trove of undiscovered oral literature in Bikol that awaits exploration. Bikol, with its rich demography and diverse languages, holds immense potential for uncovering more narratives and cultural treasures. This realization underscores the importance of preserving our history and culture, as it allows us to imbue significant value into our collective heritage. By delving deeper into the oral traditions of Bikol, we not only enrich our understanding of the past but also ensure that these invaluable stories are safeguarded for future generations to appreciate and learn from. The discussion with Sir Conde opened my eyes to a profound realization: not everything in life demands rationality; sometimes, belief alone can suffice. While it's true that science can often explain phenomena, there are instances where our faith and intuition play equally important roles. Indeed, we can embrace both rationality and spirituality, allowing these two seemingly divergent realities to coexist harmoniously. This nuanced understanding encourages us to appreciate the complexities of the world around us and to approach life with an open mind, recognizing the value of both empirical evidence and personal beliefs.

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maple-writes · 2 years ago

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Trying to get back into the vibe of writing for the city of eventide and ended up with a kind of sad one.

Right, Ember was gone. For the week anyway, out again at sea until Sunday night at least. I stood in the doorway, dropped my bag and kicked off my shoes and tried to ignore the weight settling in my chest. She might not even come back on Sunday. She might be spending the night with Jess instead. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The kitchen light glowed soft in the dark, warm from old incandescent bulbs and silent besides the cupboards creaking every so slightly by my hand. Striker was busy too this week, at least the next few days. He and Kyra were getting away and they took Argent with them. She would have fun, probably. But it would be quiet around here. Too quiet.

My pot of water boiled slowly, gradually breaking up the outline of my reflection as bubbles started small and grew to break the still surface. Cirrus hadn’t been around for a while now. When was the last time I saw him? It had to be back in the spring when he’d come for the wedding. Had it really been that long? The days had been growing shorter for months now and he hadn’t made his way back since. I swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter and staring into the rolling boil. He… He hadn’t forgotten about me had he? Right?

No, he was probably busy. I didn’t know what he had to contend with when he was away or what he had to do in order to sneak away just for me. I… I wasn’t part of his every day life anymore. Not since he went home, wherever that really was. He used to visit more often though.

I turned off the stove and grabbed my jacket from the hallway.

It was cold at the beach but then again what had I expected? Fridged waves crashed on the fine pebbled shore, pushed by the bitter wind blowing from far out to sea. I bunched my shoulders and kept my hands deep in my pockets. Rocks shifted under my feet as I walked step by step along the water. Overhead clouds raced scattered across the night sky. Stars poked out between them for only brief seconds before the next blocked the sky once again.

Farther from the parking lot trees creaked and swayed in the wind, shuddering where they grew up past the highest tidal line. Cones and needles rained down wherever the wind took them, carried away across the littered ground. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to come here, tonight, when the trees groaned louder then they should and no one would know I was gone for days at least. Well, maybe someone would notice if I didn’t show up to work. Probably. But would anyone do anything? Would anyone know what to do?

The beach curved and I stopped. Ahead the bluff rose out from the beach, built on a vein of rock harder than that which eroded around it over years and years. Bare rock at the tip shone wet in the patchy moonlight. The grass I killed didn’t have a chance to grow back. The soil it held together washed away in the winter’s storms leaving barren granite where patches of moss had only just started to creep up onto again. It hadn’t recovered like the lake in the woods. It stood scarred even still. Trees once made their way near all the way to the lookout but not anymore. The grass gone, the soil eroded, and the soil eroded left nothing for their roots. Even those which survived grew bent now, no longer shielded from the brunt of the gusts buffeting from the sea.

Sometimes Striker still couldn’t look me in the eye.

I swallowed, my throat tight. On stormy days and windy nights he was still distant. Cancelled plans, shortened conversations, hesitant touch… He never used to carry an umbrella with him and now he rarely left home without one at least tucked away in his car. It was hard not to notice the worried, knowing glances Kyra cast his way if I accidentally raised my voice just a little, be it in excitement or accident.

He'd never gone away for his birthday before either. Their trip hadn’t seemed to be just for that but he wouldn’t be here for it coincidence or not.

A gust of wind cut through my jacket and I shrunk, bracing myself against the cold that bit at my cheeks. Salt air pulled at my hair and ocean damp seeped through to my bones. What did I hope would happen by coming here? I forced my eyes away from the bluff and out to the dark ocean horizon, squinting against the winds. There was nothing for me here, not tonight. There would be no one here to find me, to bring me back home and why would they? I’d done enough to everyone already. They shouldn’t have to look after me too.

It was probably a good thing Argent went with Striker and Kyra. If she followed me out here tonight… Would I be able to hold her off? Would I be able to contend with her tonight or would I let her win? Would I let her thirst for guilt and shame take me alive?

Maybe, did I deserve it? At least a little bit? Maybe she had a point…

No. I shook my head out and turned around. I couldn’t afford to start thinking believing her, for both our sakes. Shivering I walked back the way I came with the bluff at my back, burning into my shoulders as if staring me down. It knew what I did. The rocks and long-lived trees would know what I did as long as they existed in this world. They knew. Striker knew. Everyone close to me knew and would never forget what I did to them.

They didn’t need me anymore either, did they? Ember had Jess, Striker had Kyra, Cirrus had his old life back… Argent, she didn’t really need me either did she? Ginger could probably help her better than I could, or would know someone. Striker seemed to like having her around too. She could probably stay with him if she needed to, if anything were to happen to me but then again would it be fair? Striker more than spend his share of time looking after people like her, like me.

My car was still the only one in the lot parked off to the side. Few other cars joined me on the road home either, alone under the pattern of glowing streetlights shining as if there only for me tonight. The door echoed when it closed on the quiet street, my footsteps joined only by the scurried rummaging of a racoon rustling hedges in the alley. Footsteps on the cement stairs to the basement door echoed hollow besides the jingling of my keys. The lock turned with my key but I paused before opening the door.

A perfect white moon snail shell sat placed in the center of my doormat.

My eyes watered when I picked it up and brought it inside, holding it close and only setting it down beside my alarm clock when I finally went to sleep.

#the city of eventide #not proofread so good luck #Asher sang #real sad hours apparently lol #if i do end up doing a sequel to the city of eventide #the whole idea of Asher figuring out who he is and how to grow past what happened at the end of the last one might be a major theme #but also idk much about it yet

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razieltwelve · 2 years ago

Text

The Little Professor (Final Rose x Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon)

This is set far into the AU in which Vanille shows up in House of the Dragon.

X X X

Tyrion once again marvelled at the ingenuity behind the steam train. To think that the mere boiling of water could lead to such a power machine. Yet wasn’t that the beauty of science? To explain the seemingly mundane and then work miracles with it?

The Supreme Professor Oerba Dia Vanille had once remarked that there was no useless knowledge, only those who lacked the imagination to see how it be useful.

The Targaryens had forged an Empire that spanned both Westeros and Essos, but the Supreme Professor had played a pivotal role in taking what had been a technologically and magically primitive society and advancing it more in a hundred and fifty years than it had advanced in previous eight thousand. Other boys might have idolised Daemon the Valiant Prince or Aegon the Conqueror, but Tyrion had always admired Vanille the most. In a world so often ruled by brute force and strength at arms, she had shown that wits, cunning, and pure intellect had a place.

And she had not been content simply to forge a place for herself. No. She had founded the Royal Academy in King’s Landing and supervised the founding the Paramount Academies, the central places of learning in each of the provinces that together made up the Empire. But the jewel of the Empire’s academic crown was still the Royal Academy, an institution who wisdom, knowledge, and cunning had guided the Empire throughout Vanille’s life and continued to after her death.

It had certainly been quite a life too. Were the records not so clear, Tyrion would never have believed that Vanille could have lived roughly 160 years. It was mind-boggling, but the professor had simply chuckled and smiled thinly when asked about, saying that she had always expected to outlive everyone else. In the two decades before her death, she had put into places procedures to ensure that the Academies could run successfully after her passing, even appointing a new Supreme Professor, as well codifying the laws and rules that governed the appointments of the various officials of the Academies.

It was to the Royal Academy that Tyrion was going now, the steam train covering the vast distance with endurance that no horse could match. He was a second son, and a dwarf besides, which meant his prospects in the West were limited. His dream was to become a professor in his own right, one who could serve his brother once Jaime became Lord Paramount of the West. Professor were an odd bunch, by and large, so no one would look twice at him if he became one.

As the train continued, there was a roar from overhead, and Tyrion looked up. Ah, a dragon. If he recalled correctly, they were expanding the railway network, and there was a bridge to be built in this area. There were many materials that could be used to make a bridge, but none could match the dragon stone that had been pioneered in the days of King Viserys I. The roads made of that stone still stood with seemingly no wear and tear at all, so great was their durability.

Perhaps he would get to meet a dragon in the capital. He had seen many pass overhead, for there was much that only dragons could do, but he had not had the chance to spend much time around one. The Targaryens or members of their cadet Houses that had visited Casterly Rock had generally been on business although his mother and father had both spoken warmly of the king and queen. His mother’s poor health, though, had conspired to keep them from travelling, and the royals could hardly afford to leave the capital unless it was on business. Still, his father often spoke to the king via the glass spheres that were a powerful means of communicating across long distances.

X X X

King’s Landing was every bit as spectacular as Tyrion had been led to believe. A coin slipped to the conductor had allowed him to take a position atop the engine, so he could see the city in its full majesty as the train approached.

Over the years, the city had been expanded several times, and each new sections was protected by walls of white stone. It had, supposedly, taken Vanille, Baelon the Bless, and Daenys the Devoted some time to tweak the original formula to produce white stone, but they had felt it necessary. Black stone walls were a bit too gloomy for the capital of a flourishing kingdom, and it was better to leave the black for the roads.

The Great Fire that had occurred during the reigns of Viserys I had allowed the city to be rebuilt anew, planned and proper. It was oft said of the much beloved king, that he had inherited a city of wood and scavenged stone and left a city of marble, concrete, and dragon stone. Certainly, as the train passed the great white walls and entered the city proper, Tyrion could find no fault in that statement.

Baelon the Blessed, so-named for he had designed the new Sept after the Great Fire with the aid of his cousin-wife Daenys the Devoted, had played a great role in the planning the reconstruction of the city, supervised by Vanille herself. With broad thoroughfares, aqueducts, marvellous architecture, and splendid building materials, the city stood as a testament to the might and glory of the Targaryen line.

Tyrion drank all of it in, promising himself that he would visit the Seven Markets of Flea Bottom and attend at least one ceremony in the Sept of Baelon. And there, standing near the glorious White Keep - the successor to the legendary Red Keep - was the Royal Academy. It was a district unto itself with buildings set aside for all the many areas that a man or woman might seek to learn about.

After getting off the train, Tyrion made his way toward the Royal Academy. On the streets, he could see Gold Cloaks, the famous City Watch still serving proudly under the command of Gaemon the Goldfyre, a descendant of Daemon himself. He had to ask for directions several times, but he was able to reach the Royal Academy without further incident. He was sure there was still crime in the city, but it was said that the Gold Cloaks took their duty seriously indeed, for theirs was a noble and illustrious history. They wore their gold cloaks proudly, as well as the sashes with a crimson, serpentine dragon upon them, a reminder of the prince who had taken a bunch of thugs and never-do-wells and turned them into soldiers and peacekeepers.

He could have asked for servants to come with him, but he had insisted, even begged, his father the chance to do this himself. His mother had added her pleas to his, and his father had relented. And for a moment, Tyrion had seen pride in his gaze. Tyrion would that dwarf or no, he was a man.

X X X

Tyrion was shocked when, shortly after placing his things in the rooms set aside for him, he was asked to attend to the Supreme Professor himself.

Aemon Targaryen was not a young man, but there was strength in his gaze, as well as fierce intelligence. He had earned the ranks of professor in several areas, and it was to him that the Academies looked to for direction and guidance. He had been personally appointed by Oerba Dia Vanille herself, and it was said that due to his parents’ deaths at an early age, the legendary professor had all but raised him herself.

Indeed, it was Aemon’s dragon, Starsong, that had burned Vanille’s body after her death, and it was he who had scattered her ashes over the harbour. To honour his dead mentor, Aemon had adopted the sigil of a laughing fox, the same one used by Vanille, albeit with a three-headed dragon alongside it.

“Ah, welcome, young Lord Tyrion,” Aemon said.

“Supreme Professor,” Tyrion replied. “It... it is an honour. I did not expect to speak to your personally.”

“Consider this an old man’s... curiosity.” Aemon smiled. It was a warm smile. “I like to review the submissions of all candidates, especially those with grades as good as yours and whose works have been praised as yours have been by my colleagues at the Academy of the West.”

“I have been fortunate to have good teachers.” And Tyrion would happily admit that he would miss them. They had always been kind to him, and they had seen more in him than he had seen in himself when he was a boy. “And I am glad they have spoken well of me.”

Aemon nodded. “Indeed, your paper regarding the use of dragon fire for metallurgical processes caught my eye.”

Tyrion chuckled. “Ah. That paper. Well, I’ll admit it is mostly speculation at the moment. But it seems to me that if Valyrian steel can be made there might be other magical metals available as well.”

“There are,” Aemon said. “Although few pursue that line of study due to the difficulty involved and the primacy of Valyrian steel over almost everything else.”

“True, Valyrian steel is the better of almost any substance, but surely there are other metals that might exceed it in certain circumstance, or at least in cost efficiency.”

Aemon smiled again. “Ah, such curiosity. I think you will do well here, and I would welcome such inquiries.” He folded his hands together. “Have you given much thought to what courses you shall study? Your grades are good enough to get into any of them, so you have not yet been forced to choose.”

“Hmm...” Tyrion pursed his lips. “Alchemy, for one. The study of substances and their origins and interactions has always fascinated me. Magic, for another. I’ve not blood of great power, but there are ways around that.”

Aemon’s smile broadened. “There are indeed. I remember when Vanille and I turned our attention to that matter in earnest, we were almost shocked by how much of magic could be understood via scientific means.”

“If the laws of science are those of the natural, then those of magic are the laws of the unnatural. Even so, there are still laws. It is simply a matter of understanding them.”

Aemon’s eyes twinkled. “I do believe I know those words. I happened to right them, unless I’m mistaken.”

“Indeed.” Tyrion nodded eagerly. “You have helped lay the very foundations of understanding magic in a systematic manner. Now, you see applications of it everywhere, from the minor to the magnificent. I should like to understand that better.”

“Do any other areas interest you?”

“Dragons,” Tyrion said. “And history.”

“Ah, then I believe you shall find much to enjoy, for where better to study dragons and history than the capital?”

“Quite.”

“In any case,” Aemon said. “I am happy to meet you. Submit your preferences by the end of the week if you wish to avoid any complications. I look forward to your progress.”

“Thank you, Supreme Professor.”

#final rose #game of thrones #house of the dragon #fanfiction #aemon #tyrion lannister

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zuko-always-lies · 3 years ago

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Unpopular Opinion: Zuko’s treatment of Mai is deeply toxic.

Mai is a character who is often maligned in the fandom, with it even occasionally being claimed that she was “abusive” toward Zuko. Any objective analysis of Mai’s behavior in her relationship with Zuko will instead find that she was, in fact, a shockingly good romantic partner, generally treating Zuko very well and being loyal to him far beyond reasonable expectation. Claims that Mai behaved toxically toward Zuko seem to be instead founded in misogynistic expectations that women be perfect caretakers for the men in their lives.

That is not to say that the Zuko-Mai relationship isn’t still deeply toxic. However, its toxicity stems from the manner which Zuko badly mistreats Mai, often in ways which devalue her. Much more under the cut.

Our story begins in the first half of Book 3. The vast majority of episodes there don’t show anything particularly toxic going on in the relationship. The most you can say is that they suggest that Zuko tends to dump his problems on others and doesn’t have best understanding of his girlfriend.

However, inevitably we must turn to “The Beach,” the episode which, by far, gets the most into the Zuko-Mai relationship. To say that Zuko doesn’t behave well toward Mai in this episode would be an understatement. I don’t speak here of Zuko’s unsuccessful attempts to please Mai early in the episode, but instead how badly he starts treating her beginning at the party:

Ruon Jian: Hey, first ones here, huh? Zuko: (cut to shot of Zuko and Mai walking side by side) Pft. He thinks he's so great. (to Mai) Well, what do you think of him? (they stop walking) Mai: I don't have any opinion about him. I hardly know him. Zuko: You like him, don't you? (Mai sighs and walks away, as Zuko looks angrily in the direction of Ruon Jian. The camera zooms in on Ruon Jian)

And

(Cut to shot of Ruon Jian leaning over Mai. Zuko rushes toward them angrily and pushes Ruon Jian away from her. Cut to shot of Ruon Jian straightening his hair.) Ruon Jian: Whoa. What are you doing? Zuko: (close-up shot of Zuko, angry) Stop talking to my girlfriend! Ruon Jian: (Ruon Jian approaches Zuko) Relax, it's just a party. (Zuko pushes Ruon Jian hard, sending him flying across the room, breaking a giant vase.) Mai: (Mai stands up and grabs Zuko's shoulder. He turns towards her.) Zuko, what is wrong with you?! Zuko: What's wrong with me?! Mai: (angrily) Your temper's out of control. You blow up over every little thing. You're so impatient and hot-headed and angry. Zuko: Well, at least I feel something...as opposed to you. You have no passion for anything. (raising his arms is the air) You're just a big "blah". Mai: (turning away from him) It's over, Zuko. We're done.

And:

(Zuko follows her and the camera pans down to the handprint, left alone on the porch. Cut to wide view of the camera panning down Ember Island Beach. Zuko and Azula are walking side by side toward Mai and Ty Lee. Close shot of Zuko looking toward Mai and then looking away. Close shot of Mai looking angry and a bit sad.) Mai: Hey... (Interrupted) Zuko: (close shot of Zuko) Where's your new boyfriend? (Mai turns away angrily. Zuko comes and sits next to her) Are you cold? (he puts his arm around her, but she slaps it away)

Zuko is acting in a massively controlling fashion toward Mai, motivated by his violent and rage-filled jealously. She literally can’t talk to a boy without Zuko flying into a jealous rage, trying to separate her from the person she’s talking to, and accusing her of emotional infidelity. In real life, this is considered a warning sign for an abusive relationship(although I don’t think Zuko has crossed the line into abusive yet).

“The Beach” also gives us this:

Mai: Oh, well, I'm sorry I can't be as high-strung and crazy as the rest of you. (Cut to over-head shot of the four teens. Zuko walks closer to the fire and Mai.) Zuko: I'm sorry, too. I wish you would be high-strung and crazy for once, (Close shot of Mai looking away and Zuko standing over her) instead of keeping all your feelings bottled up inside. She just called your aura dingy. Are you gonna take that?

Zuko tries to provoke Mai into having a fight with her best friend Ty Lee just so he can watch her express strong emotions. Zuko very much wants to Mai to be and act like someone she’s not, which has its own issues.

Overall, Zuko treats Mai quite poorly in “The Beach.” The episode ends with this:

Mai: I know one thing I care about... (Cut to shot of Mai smiling at Zuko) I care about you. (Mai and Zuko kiss. Azula claps, causing them to separate and turn toward Azula. The camera pans left to include her.)

Mai forgives Zuko and accepts him back without him acknowledging his behavior was wrong, apologizing for it, or giving her any guarantee that he will treat her better in the future. That’s unfortunate, as Zuko soon ends up treating her far, far worse than he ever did in this episode.

Zuko’s disregard for Mai cumulates with the manner he commits treason on the Day of Black Sun. Let us start our understanding of what he did wrong from the beginning. Breaking up with Mai via a letter which didn’t give her a real explanation was a real asshole move, but it’s not at the core of what he did wrong. For that, we need to turn to this conversation from “The Headband”:

Zuko: Can't you see we're busy? (He and Mai resume their "business".) Azula: (not to be put off) Oh, Mai... Ty Lee needs your help untangling her braid. Mai: (complaisantly) Sounds pretty serious. (She gets up and leaves. Walking past Azula, towards the camera, she shoots the princess a quick, poisonous glance behind her back.) Azula: So...I hear you've been to visit your Uncle Fatso in the prison tower. Zuko: (standing, incensed) That guard told you. Azula: (smugly) No, you did. Just now. Zuko: (sitting back down) Okay, you caught me. What is it that you want, Azula? Azula: (solicitiously) Actually, nothing. Believe it or not, I'm looking out for you. If people find out you've been to see Uncle, they'll think you're plotting with him. Just be careful, dum-dum.

Zuko has proven his loyalty to the Fire Nation beyond doubt, yet Azula is still very worried that him spending time with Iroh will get him accused of treason, because having a close association with traitors puts oneself under almost automatic suspicion of treason.

“Day of Black Sun, Part II”:

Zuko: First of all, in Ba Sing Se, it was Azula who took down the Avatar, not me. Fire Lord Ozai: Why would she lie to me about that? Zuko: Because the Avatar is not dead. He survived. Fire Lord Ozai: (alarmed) What?!

Zuko deliberately throws Azula under the bus, hurting her and reducing her status with Ozai as much possible while effectively accusing her of deliberately committing treason. He also deliberately pisses off Ozai as much as possible.

So where does this leave us? Mai is Zuko’s known girlfriend and extremely close associate. Automatically, the suspicion of knowing of Zuko’s treason ahead of time or being involved falls upon her. She’s in grave risk of being imprisoned, tortured, or executed, especially since Ozai seems not the type to be strictly concerned with ensuring those he punishes are guilty beyond reasonable doubt. The Fire Nation seems like a society which might have collective punishment(as historical East Asian societies, Nazi Germany, and the Stalinist Soviet Union did), and Mai might be under risk from that direction. Finally, Ozai might hurt her simply as way of retaliating against Zuko.

Normally Azula would almost certainly be able to protect her friend, even under these trying circumstances, given Azula’s prestige and accomplishments. However, Zuko has deliberately undermined Azula as much as possible and effectively accused her of committing treason herself, dramatically reducing the probability that she will be able to protect Mai. In fact, Mai stands risk of being accused of being involved in Azula’s effort to “conceal the fact that the Avatar survived,” given Mai’s close association with Azula and her close involvement in the events where the Avatar “died.” She’s thus under danger from two different directions.

“But Zuko had to betray his father and become good through aiding Team Avatar.” Yes, it’s a good thing he did so. But Zuko had other options than the course he adopted. He could have avoided confronting Ozai at all and instead focused on rescuing Iroh(interesting AU idea right here). He could have confronted Ozai but not thrown Azula under the bus, and that alone would have vastly reduced the risk to Mai(and also made Zuko out to be a better person, because deliberately throwing your younger sister under the bus and then abandoning her to the mercy of your abusive father is not a good look). Zuko could have killed Ozai right then and there during the eclipse. He even could have tried to lead Team Avatar to the bunker and tried to end the war right then and there.

“Zuko didn’t understand that he was placing Mai in danger.” Quite possible, but Zuko being so self-centered that he is unable of understanding that his actions can have negative effects on other people is a mark against him, not for him.

Now we turn to the Zuko’s behavior toward Mai in the rest of the third season. Let us start with “The Boiling Rock, Part 1”:

Sokka: (emphatically) I think your Uncle would be proud of you. Leaving your home to come help us, that's hard. Zuko: It wasn't that hard. Sokka: (Cut to a side view of the basket) Really? You didn't leave behind anyone you cared about? Zuko: Well I did have a girlfriend. Mai. Sokka: (He goes closer to Zuko with a surprised look on his face) That gloomy girl who sighs a lot? Zuko: (Cut back to show Zuko grinning goofily) Yeah. (his face turns serious) Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I'm a traitor. I couldn't drag her into it. Sokka: (Cut back to Sokka who leans back on the basket) My first girlfriend turned into the Moon. Zuko: (looks up) That's rough buddy

There are two things to unpack here. First, Zuko claims he “couldn’t drag her into it,” yet he already did, as I’ve illustrated above. Second, Zuko seems to expect that Mai would have followed him into treason if he asked her, that she would be willing to betray her nation, ideology, family, and friends just for the sake of her love for him. That’s an insane and pretty toxic expectation for Zuko to have for her relationship with him, especially since he wouldn’t do the same for her.

We also get more confirmation that Zuko doesn’t care at all about Ty Lee or Azula.

I don’t have a lot to say about the Zuko-Mai conversation during Boiling Rock, Part 2. The only things I would like to note are that Zuko is not very sorry for what he did, not very empathetic toward Mai’s pain, and doesn’t give Mai a real apology for his actions.

Of course, Mai proceeds to save Zuko’s life through committing treason in front of dozens of witnesses at Boiling Rock, something which places her own life in serous jeopardy. How does Zuko react to this?

Zuko: (Cut to a shocked Zuko) It's Mai. Azula: (Cut to a furious Azula) What is she doing?! (Cut to the backs of Azula and Ty Lee as Ty Lee shrugs and makes a "I don't know" noise. Cut to the gondola as it reaches the outer part of the crater. Cut to the inside of the entrance tower as the door opens and Suki rushes out followed by Sokka, Zuko, Hakoda and Chit Sang. Hakoda turns towards Chit Sang and points to the inside of the gondola. Chit Sang proceeds to throw the warden back in.) Hakoda: (Cut to the back of Hakoda's head looking at the warden lying on the floor) Sorry Warden, your record is officially broken. (Hakoda walks off screen while the warden continues to struggle on the floor. Cut to a front shot of the group as they run up a rocky incline.) Suki: Well, we made it out. Now what? Sokka: (Sokka stops and looks back at Zuko who pauses in his tracks, thinking) Zuko, what are you doing? Zuko: My sister was on that island. Sokka: Yeah and she's probably right behind us. So let's not stop. Zuko: What I mean is she must have come here somehow. (He runs to the edge of the rocks and looks down) There. (Cut to an area looking up at the edge of the cliff) That's our way out of here. (Camera pans down to reveal a Fire Nation zeppelin docked at the shore.

Zuko says Mai’s name once and then abandons her (to die?) with zero hesitation. This is probably objectively the correct decision. It would probably be extremely difficult and dangerous if not outright impossible to save Mai. The prison-break crew do have access to an airship, but it’s difficult to fly an airship over the lake’s thermals.

Yet that’s not my point. Zuko abandons Mai with zero hesitation, with zero anguish, with zero angst. He doesn’t even to seem consider the possibility that he should save her. Something tells me if Iroh had just saved Zuko’s life under identical circumstances and then was in imminent risk of harm, Zuko would act very differently, that Sokka, Suki, and Hakoda would have to drag him off that island.

Zuko’s complete disregard for Mai continues for the rest the series. Remember this exchange from “The Cave of Two Lovers”?

Zuko: (losing his patience) We're not taking any more chances with these plants! We need to get help. Iroh: But where are we going to go? We're enemies of the Earth Kingdom, and fugitives from the Fire Nation. Zuko: (musingly) If the Earth Kingdom, discovers us, they'll have us killed. Iroh: But if the Fire Nation discovers us, we'll be turned over to Azula.

Zuko considers being captured by Azula a worse fate than death!

But do we see Zuko worry once about Mai’s fate? Do we see angst about what might have happened to her? Do we see him make any effort to even discover her fate, much less rescue her?

No. In fact, Zuko launches a sophisticated operation to infiltrate a Fire Nation information center so that he can gain intelligence in order to help Katara murder someone so that she’ll like him, but he doesn’t even consider doing the same to find out about Mai’s fate so that he could potentially rescue her. Zuko doesn’t even mention Mai once after Boiling Rock until the very end of the series finale, even though she sacrificed herself to save him. Remember this exchange(“Sozin’s Comet, Part 3”):

Zuko: Sorry, but you're not going to become Fire Lord today. (jumps off Appa) I am. Azula: (laughs) You're hilarious. Katara: (standing beside Zuko) And you're going down. (The fire sage motions to crown Azula, but she raises her hand, signalling him to stop.) Azula: Wait. You want to be Fire Lord Fine. Let's settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be. Agni Kai! Zuko: You're on. (Katara turns to Zuko, surprised. Cut to a close up of Azula's lips as the curls into a smile. Cut back to Katara and Zuko.) Katara: What are you doing? She's playing you. She knows she can't take us both so she is trying to separate us. Zuko: I know. But I can take her this time. Katara: But even you admitted to your Uncle that you would need help facing Azula. Zuko: There's something off about her, I can't explain it but she's slipping. And this way, no one else has to get hurt. (Fade to a shot of the courtyard from the side. The camera pans from Zuko kneeling on the right end to Azula kneeling on the left end. Cut to a shot of Zuko rising and turning around, then cut to a shot of Azula rising. Each can be seen behind the other. Cut to a shot of Azula from the front turning and removing the Fire Lord robes.) Azula: I'm sorry it has to end this way, brother. Zuko: (in his stance) No, you're not.

Notice something? Zuko doesn’t demand to know what happened to Mai! It’s almost like he forgot she existed!

Now we turn to the final infamous exchange(“Sozin’s Comet, Part 4”):

Mai:(off screen) You need some help with that? (He looks up surprised and moves aside to reveal Mai leaning against the doorway. Cut to a close up of Mai as she walks towards Zuko.) Zuko: (Cut to a delighted Zuko) Mai! (Walks off screen) You're ok. (Cut to an area behind Mai's back as Zuko opens his arms out in a hug) They let you out of prison? (Mai walks behind Zuko and lifts up his empty robe sleeve.) Mai: My uncle (Zuko puts his arms through the sleeve) pulled some strings, (she proceeds to fasten his robe) and it doesn't hurt when the new Fire Lord is your boyfriend. (She walks in front of Zuko and places a hand on his chest) Zuko: So does this mean you don't hate me anymore? Mai: (she blushes) I think it means... (Cut to a close up of the couple) I actually (places a hand on Zuko's cheek) kind of like you. (They lean in for a kiss and part a fewseconds later, looking into each other's eyes happily) But don't ever (She jabs a finger into Zuko's shoulder and Zuko's eye traces the movement of her finger) break up (She lifts her finger into the air and Zuko's eyes still follows it) with me again. (She jabs her finger into Zuko's shoulder one last time and Zuko smiles goofily. They embrace and the camera zooms out slowly.

Zuko seems surprised to learn that Mai is OK, almost like he made no effort to find out her fate once he took charge of the Fire Nation. And indeed, his first acts as leader of the Fire Nation were not to find out what happened to her or, if he actually knew, to get her released from prison. Mai only got released from prison when her uncle and his connections got sufficiently confident that Zuko had been completely accepted as the new leader to release a massive traitor completely on their own initiative. This was quite possibly weeks after Azula-Zuko Agni Kai, yet he made no apparent effort to get her released. It’s almost like Zuko completely forgot about Mai, even though she sacrificed herself to save him.

And, of course, Zuko doesn’t accept responsibility for any of the awful ways he treated Mai, much less apologize to her or offer any guarantee he will behave better in the future. Mai still forgives him anyways, just like she did in “The Beach,” only for Zuko to continue to screw her over. There is something deeply depressing here, as there’s every reason to believe that Zuko will screw over Mai over, devalue her, and disregard her well-being, desires, and interests again the moment it’s convenient for him to do so. He certainly has not recognized that his toxic behavior here is something he needs to stop doing. Ironically, the comics get this right by having Zuko try to use his power as Firelord to order Mai to stay his girlfriend.

Ultimately, Zuko loves Mai and cares about her deeply, yet he still treats her as a tool and acts like she exists to serve him. It reminds me how show! canon Ozai genuinely loved show! canon Ursa, but still used her as a tool and threw her away. Honestly, I doubt 16-year-old Zuko is really ready for any romantic relationship at all, given his often toxic behavior, his trauma, and the incredibly stressful position he’s placed in at the end of the series.

#Azula #Zuko #Mai #Ty Lee #Dangerous Ladies #Ozai #Zuko meta #ATLA meta #meta #Unpopular opinion

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desmondkane-of-ao3-fame · 2 years ago

Note

Any headcannons about skarlow’s honeymoon?

A few, yes. Mainly just some fun little ideas I like to consider.

The Boiling Isles isn’t known as even the Demon Realms most romantic location, but it does have a few places that can be nice honeymoon destinations. For instance, The Knee, when away from the predators, is a great destination to visit, especially when you have a cozy little winter cabin. Which, thankfully, Skara does! So after their wedding, Skara and Willow decide to have a quiet, relaxing stay on the Knee together in a small cabin for two weeks, just the two of them.

Even while on their honeymoon, Willow refuses to skip work outs. She brought her weights and equipment and always does her best to maintain her regular routine. But Skara doesn’t mind. Willow tries not to wake her, but when she does, Skara likes to help, spot checking and the like. She… enjoys fit Willow a lot. Although she does tell Willow to take a shower before they kiss or anything.

After Willow’s workout, Skara would make them both a breakfast of paincakes and roast (BI toast, except the toast is burnt to a crisp just how Witches like it). Willow digs in, loving her wife’s cooking almost as much as Skara herself.

Both girls like to go on Palismen flights around the cabin as well, always bundled up in the warmest gear they have (which includes a very cute red scarf for Skara with long green frills that she likes to spin on her fingers). They either hold hands while flying both their respective Palismen, or fly one together. They’re not usually out for more then an hour or two, but they see so much while they are out that they love to talk about. It especially helps that the Knee doesn’t have many flying predators, so the girls are able to just watch the sights of nature from a safe distance.

Speaking of their Palismen, both girls make space next to an enchanted fireplace for them to stay cozy and warm. They’ll often cuddle up together, along with their owners at the end of the night, before they fall asleep, which is about when Skara and Willow leave to hit the sack themselves. Thankfully, the warmth of the fire is able to maintain itself throughout the night while dimming, so the Palismen get the warmth of a fire with no fear of the light waking them.

Luz and Amity call in near the end of the day each day, just to make sure their friends haven’t been eaten by a Slitherbeast or the like. Skara always answers and the girls usually spend an hour chatting about their days. One day, near the end of the honeymoon, Skara noticed something a little different in Amity. Her stomach seemed to be a little more pronounced, and she looked a touch sickly. When Skara told Willow about it, Willow spit out her Malk before calling her friends back up to confirm, yes indeed, Amity was pregnant! There was absolutely no sleep that night as Skara ands Willow excitedly congratulated their friends and talked endlessly about the baby and their future (‘Yes, of course you’ll both be godparents. Yes, of course you’ll get to hold her when she’s born. No, we are NOT naming her Skara Jr.).

Every night before crawling into bed together, Skara always asks Willow if she wants a kiss. When Willow says of course, Skara hands her the human snack Luz got her addicted to. Willow rolls her eyes, but takes it, right before Skara pulls her in for a deep, loving kiss before cuddling themselves to sleep. It’s a tradition that starts in the honeymoon and that the two try to keep going for the rest of their marriage.

When the honeymoon is over, Willow and Skara are sad to see the place go, but know they’ll be able to return later in life for more comfy, cottage core-y times together. Skara even suggests it as a retirement home, and though it’s a bit further out from civilization then Willow would like, she can’t deny the idea of sitting in a rocking chair with Skara next to an eternal fire while a storm goes on outside, even in their 70’s… that doesn’t sound too bad to her.

#the owl house #skarlow #willow park #toh skara #willow park toh #headcannon #cute #toh #skara

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anxious-allie-ren · 3 years ago

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I couldn't help myself from posting the next chapter already. I'm just too excited about this story and sharing it with you all! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter as well! It's probably my favorite thing I've written so far.

A few trigger warnings for this chapter: Violence, death, and childhood trauma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erota

Your majesty.

The invitation had arrived at his castle months ago. It sat open on his desk with no response for three weeks. He stares down at it as he finishes putting on his attire for the evening. It was a last minute decision to go. He still wasn't confident in such a decision, but it was too late to go back on it now. His aunt and uncle would be expecting him.

Ben had been a quiet boy. Growing up on the palace grounds was very secluded. High society members visited the King and Queen of Chandrila often. Balls, banquets, and glamorous events took place nearly every fortnight. But it was rare a child would accompany their parents. It was even rarer that Ben was allowed to attend such events.

His father was a strict man. He had married into power, Queen Leia taking control of the kingdom after her father had passed. He was anointed king soon after their marriage and took on numerous responsibilities. Most notable being the military and war plans. He was a courageous soldier, fighting in many of Chandrila's most notable wars. This tough exterior and pride carried into his parenting. Han pushed Ben to be just like him. He was to be strong, both physically and mentally. Any sign of emotion was seen as a weakness.

When Ben was just a boy, no older than four years of age, he had attended a hunting trip with his father and a few other noblemen. He kept to himself as he followed the men deep into the woods. He struggled to carry his bow and arrow, the weapon still larger than him. He observed the men bantering and preparing weapons of their own. He was much too young to understand what was to happen on this trip. But he would soon find out.

The group was stopped for a break within a small clearing. The men chugged bitter wine from their flasks and exchanged raunchy jokes. Ben was too busy watching a brilliantly blue butterfly floating about to absorb their words. He is ripped from his peaceful moment as his father quickly grabs his own weapon near his feet.

"Look across the clearing there, men. We've got a large one!"

Ben follows his fathers line of sight to a marvelous buck grazing the meadow in the distance. He was immediately taken with the animal. He had wooden toys of woodland animals just like it. A smile spread across his face as he watched the buck chew on blades of grass, its long antlers sat on his head like a crown. It reminded him of the crown his father was wearing now. Ben turns to look upon it just as his father pulls back the arrow and releases it. The buck is speared in the chest, just inches from its heart. It collapses in the grass, too stunned to take off. Han yells out in frustration.

"Motherfucker! That was a clear fucking shot!"

Ben's eyes water as he watches the buck writhed in pain, releasing wails that cut through the calm woods. Han looks to Ben and sees the tears trail down his chubby little cheeks. He rips his dagger from his boot and grabs Ben by the back of his collar, dragging him towards the wounded animal. Ben cries out in protest, trying to wriggle from his father's grasp.

"No father! I don't want to go near it!"

Han stops in front of the animal, shoving Ben in front of him and forcing the dagger into his tiny hands.

"Finish him off, boy. End his suffering."

Ben shakes his head, tears still falling from his eyes. He looks from the buck and back to the dagger. Blood is flowing from where it was punctured, creating a pool near his feet.

Ben sniffles and starts to back away. He lets out a small whimper and cries out, "I can't father! It was good! It did nothing wrong!"

Han growls in anger and pushes Ben closer to the animal.

"Do it, Ben! You need to stop being so fucking weak! Good or bad doesn't matter when you're facing another man's sword. All that matters is who comes out of the battle alive."

"But this isn't a battle! It's just an animal!"

Han's anger finally boils over. He grabs Ben's hand, forcing the dagger into his little fist and shoves it through the buck's heart. Ben screams in horror and fear as blood splatters onto his arms and chest. Han releases his grip on his hand, yanking out the dagger and wiping it on his pant leg.

"This kingdom has no use for a sensitive, spineless king. Toughen up, Benjamin or you will fail."

That moment had traumatized him. His father's words sunk into his soul, like a rock sinking to the bottom of the sea. He came back from that trip a bit hardened. As he grew, he continued to collect bricks of trauma, adding them slowly to the wall he hides behind. His fortress was solidified the day his parents passed.

He never got along with his father. His relationship with his mother wasn't good either. When he was an infant, Leia doted on him. She took on the responsibility of caring for him by herself, leaving her other duties to her advisors. She spent as much time with him as possible. But when Ben was about the age of three, she seemed to abandon him. Leia brought on nannies and wet nurses to care for him.

Leia was brought up as an independent, able lady. During her time in the ton, she was one of the most desired debutantes. But by the end of the season, she had chosen Lord Han Solo, the son of a Baron in Chandra. He was below her in status, but she was so enamored with him that they married quickly after meeting. Ben was born just ten months into their marriage. He provided Chandrila with its sought after heir. But a spare would still be needed in the event that tragedy were to strike. Leia tried desperately for another child, but nothing seemed to stick. She went as far as to bring in witch doctors and herbalists in hopes of success. The spare never came and the stress weighed on her greatly. The pain became too much to bear.

Leia returned to her duties and never spoke of children again. She distanced herself from the one she had as some way to cope with her failure. Seeing her living child grow only reminded her what she was lacking. They would remain separated for the rest of her life, only seeing each other at events.

Ben was only fifteen years old when his parents died. The king and queen were travelling to Chandrakant for a meeting with the Earl to discuss funding when they were attacked. Soldiers from a neighboring kingdom ambushed their carriage during the night. They were found in the morning by merchants traveling along that path. When their bodies were brought back to Chandrila and laid to rest, Ben was crowned as king.

During his coronation, he was given the choice to take on a reign name or keep his own. Both his parents had kept their names during their rule. His grandparents had as well. But he made the decision that day to let his past die along with his family. He would take on a new name and bring on a new era for Chandrila. From that day on he was formally known as His Majesty, King Kylo Ren of Chandrila.

Kylo had been living a secluded life for many years at this point. He preferred to stay introverted, doing what he had to for his kingdom and nothing more. The ballroom that was once filled with balls and galas had been retired. An event had not been held at the palace since his parents were alive. Meetings with nobility took place in the throne room. He did not travel. He did not leave the palace grounds.

But Kylo has now come of age, surpassed it by a few years even. His advisors were now beginning to push the idea of marriage on him. A heir and spare would be needed for the succession. Kylo simply brushed off their pestering questions during court. He would take a wife when he was good and ready.

But finding a wife meant leaving the grounds to search. This meant he must attend the events of the ton. Kylo had absolutely no interest in stepping foot in such frivolous festivities. When he decided it was time, he would simply have his advisor pick a lady for him. It's not as if the marriage would ever be anything more than a societal alliance. A way for both notable families to gain from the prospect. The notion of love was not even on Kylo's mind. He had lacked it all his life, never experiencing it to know what he was missing. A marriage and creating an heir would become another royal duty for him to fulfill.

He couldn't deny that he was shocked when the invitation was brought to him in his den. The King and Queen of Corellia had invited him to the first banquet of the season. It was to be held at their summer estate in the countryside of Corellia. He hadn't been there since he was a small boy.

During the nice summer months when the air was humid and the sun stayed in the sky long past his bedtime, his family went to visit the King and Queen. Uncle Luke was his mother's twin brother. They had both been raised in Chandrila and had been very close most of their lives. When they both came of age, it was decided that Chandrila would divide into two kingdoms. One for Princess Leia to rule, and one for Prince Luke. This is how the kingdom of Corellia was created. Ever since, Uncle Luke has ruled those territories.

Kylo had been fond of him when he was young. But when his parents passed and the responsibility of Chandrila was thrusted upon him, Uncle Luke never came to help. He didn't attend their burials. He didn't assist the young boy in the transition. He too, had abandoned him.

He realized on one late night, weeks after the invitation had arrived, that this was some sort of olive branch. A way from Luke to worm his way into Kylo's good graces. But this would not be enough for him. He wanted answers. He wanted justice. Overall, he wanted revenge. So he decided then to accept the invitation. Kylo would attend this banquet and get what he deserved.

But all those plans were put on hold the moment your name was announced to the ton.

Kylo had arrived about an hour ago. He entered through a back passage he remembered as a child, so as to not draw attention to his arrival. He had taken a glass of champagne off a passing tray and stood on the outskirts of the crowd. Young ladies gawked and whispered about him, giggling amongst one another. He paid them no mind, he was on a mission and he intended on completing it.

He was slowly making his way towards the back of the ballroom where his uncle sat when your arrival had been announced. He took no notice of it initially. But he stopped in his tracks as he got a glimpse of you through the crowd. Your deep red dress stood out against the pastels surrounding him. You were delicate in your motions, curtsying before your king and waiting for his command. He watched as Luke approached you, his uncle clearly as enamored with you as he was. Everyone in the room could hear his words as he spoke to you. Singing praises and compliments that undoubtedly made you beam with pride.

Your father had led you away after your interaction with the king. Kylo lost track of you as a group of gentlemen approached him to exchange pleasantries. He did his best to be polite, not wanting to draw more attention to himself than he clearly already had. He again tried to make his way through the crowd, only this time he was in search of you.

A petite young woman appeared in front of him before he could get his eyes on you.

She had shiny black hair, pinned up with elegant pins. Her dress was a nauseating pastel green and her jewelry constantly caught the light, nearly making him squint to look at her. She presented her hand to him and gave him a toothy smile.

"Hello, your grace. My name is Charlotte Ventress, the daughter of Lord and Lady Ventress. I saw you standing here all alone and felt so compelled to introduce myself."

Kylo nearly cringes from her introduction. Debutantes we're never meant to approach gentlemen. In fact it was the other way around. Her forwardness was immediately a turn off. It's unlikely he would have been interested in her, if he hadn't already been so taken by you. Kylo clears his throat and takes her hand, giving it a gentle shake.

"Hello, Miss Ventress. I'm humbled by your need for introduction, but I'm afraid you're using the wrong titles."

Charlotte looks at him confused, an eyebrow raising at his statement.

"Is that so? Well, then what title should I be using exactly?"

Her words were laced with attitude and sarcasm. Kylo smirked to himself, looking down at his pristine, shiny dress shoes. Did he look anything less than a king? He figured his attire would have given his status away, that's why he chose not to wear his crown. By her tone, he can only assume she thinks he's below her.

"The correct title would be your majesty, miss."

At this she tries to hold back a chuckle, placing her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement. Charlotte places a hand on her hip, her posture becoming more relaxed now. She thinks he's joking.

"Your majesty? Sir, I'm pretty sure the only royalty in this room is sitting over there."

She nods her head towards the back of the room, motioning to the thrones where his aunt and uncle are sat. Oh this poor girl has no clue.

"I believe you're referring to my aunt and uncle. I'm King Kylo of Chandrila, King Luke's nephew."

He watches as the recognition flies across her features. Eyes going wide and eyebrows raising in surprise. Charlotte immediately stands back up, making a poor attempt at presenting herself as dignified. It was much too late for that now.

"Oh, you're majesty! I'm so sorry for my lapse in judgement. How silly of me."

Kylo holds back his eye roll. Just another young woman fluttering her lashes at him for his titles. He nods to her and finishes off his champagne.

"Right, of course. You must excuse me, it seems my glass is empty."

With that he walks away from her, back on his pursuit to find where you'd gone. He comes to the outskirts of the dance floor, watching as lords and ladies waltz around in circles. A waiter begins to pass by and he is quick to place his empty flute on their tray.

Kylo stands in a relaxed position, hands clasped behind his back, as he watches the couples in front of him. He raises his eyes from the dance floor for a moment, hoping to spot your crimson colored dress amongst the crowd. That's when Kylo locks eyes with you from across the room. He takes in your features, admiring your beauty. He admittedly had very little experience with women. It was a rare occasion for him to speak with them. His interaction mostly took place with the ladies in court. All of them married and much older than him.

Kylo finally understood his uncle's words to you earlier. You held his intense gaze, allowing him to see the secrets held within your eyes. He felt like he was stuck in place, frozen in time with just your look. The moment ended abruptly as a ginger haired man stepped in front of you, blocking his view of you and cutting off your eye contact.

He instantly felt possessive. Kylo could see your discomfort through your body language. He kept watch from the side of the dance floor as you took the man's arm and joined him for the next song. He wanted your full attention.

Kylo decided then that he needed more of you. He wanted to know you, needed to know you. If joining the ton and surviving this season was what he had to do to make that happen, then so be it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poor baby Kylo! How are we feeling about Kylo's perspective? I'm hoping to include his view of things very often in this story. Please let me know what you think!

Love,

Allie

#star wars #kyloren #kylo #king kylo #kylorenthings #kylo ren x you #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #poe dameron #armitage hux #Hux #poe #bridgerton #historical #slow burn

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sylvie-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Beautiful Just the Way You Are

word count: 1982

request:

warnings: talks of negative self-image. please don’t read if this will upset you!

a/n: this is part 5 of (undetermined) of me trying to finish requests that have been sent in ages ago. IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. it’s been hard to write but hopefully these will do. please ignore any mistakes, I typed this a bit fast and didn’t really check.

Chris

You and Chris were getting ready to go to one of his closest friend’s wedding.

This would be the first time you would meet each other so making a good first impression was a must.

Chris had gone to pick up his suit from the dry cleaners and you were currently scouring through the four dresses your sister-in-laws had lended you.

The wedding was a summer wedding and it was gonna be held on the beach.

As of recently, the heat had gotten worse each day meaning you didn’t want to be stuck in a dress that caused you to sweat like a runner after 12 miles.

Both of Chris’s sisters had noted this and unfortunately all four dresses before you were above the knee, something that made you uneasy.

It seemed that when you were going to meet people or attend public events, your insecurities crept up even more than usual and your mind would shove negative thoughts down your throat.

You were gorgeous, no doubt, but with such poisonous thoughts of yourself, you couldn't see any beauty as your reflection stared back from the mirror.

The first dress was a lacy yellow v-neck dress. It slightly flared out to the sides and it complimented your figure beautifully.

The second dress was a black bodycon, which made you want to scream. While to the average eye, your curves flourished under this dress, all you could see was a belly and hips that you wanted gone.

The third and fourth dresses were similar with thin spaghetti straps and flowy bottoms which reminded you of a bell.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris had come back sometimes in between trying on the second and third dress.

He peeked through the door, admiring how amazing you looked.

Chris kept thinking how lucky he was to have such a woman until he heard yells of anger that shook him from his daydream.

That was when you tried on the last dress and the final straw was gone.

Your anger turned into tears as you collapsed onto the food feeling nothing but pain and worthlessness.

In seconds, Chris was on the floor with you, wrapping his arms around your front where your arms were held up to your eyes.

He rocked you back and forth, shushing you gently.

“(y/n), honey, speak to me. Tell me what I can do to help you?”

Words were worthless at this point and all Chris could make out was “dress.”

He put two and two together and realized that you were upset with the way you looked.

For some time now, Chris knew this had been a problem, but he didn’t realize it would bubble up this badly.

He knew words of his compliments wouldn’t help at all because you’d just say that he was lying.

All he wanted was for you to see yourself through his point of view because you were like an angel.

“Hey, love, listen to me.”

Chris removed your hands from your eyes and looked at you in the mirror.

“You are stunning, always and forever. Your body does amazing things for you and for me.” He chuckled at the end causing you to laugh a bit, a sad smile on your face.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I would never lie to you. I made you that promise all those years ago and I will keep it forever, you understand me?”

You nodded just wanting to shrug this whole embarrassing experience off. You were never one to want people to see you like this because it felt like you were vying for attention when you weren’t.

“No, (y/n), I want you to say.”

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Yes, I know, Chris.”

He smiled and kissed your temple, “There’s my girl. Now c’mon, let's keep this dress on and I’ll help you with your makeup.

Ransom

You and Ransom were at one of Harlan’s publishing parties.

The family was up to their usual shenanigans leaving you and Ransom to sip on one too many drinks to stay interested.

One Joni walked away after trying to sell you some of her face moisturizer that cost more than the largest bag of dog food, Ransom snuck up behind you and led you to the garden, away from the sight of any house guests.

“How about we sneak away and take a dip in the pool?” His eyebrows raised teasingly and it was hard to resist such an offer.

“But Ransom, I don’t have a swimsuit!” You motioned to your maxi dress that was too pretty to damage with chlorine.

You set your drink down on the cement bench and went to sit beside it before Ransom grabbed your hand and smirked.

“Fine by me, here, simple fix!”

In seconds, Ransom slipped off your dress, not even with a tear which was shocking from his usual animalistic movements.

This left you standing in your simple undergarments, yet feeling more naked than actually being so.

Ransom placed a kiss on your head before jumping into the pool in his boxers and nothing more.

He seemed ever so happy, waving his arms for you to jump in as he shook his now mop-like hair, now looking like a wet dog.

Instead, you were sitting quietly on the ledge of the pool, arms wrapped around your waist trying to cover every inch of your exposed body.

You felt so terrible like the sight Ransom would see would be so repulsive because that was exactly what you were thinking.

When Ransom noticed that you were frozen in your spot and zoned out on some dragonfly floating in the pool, he swam closer.

Ransom placed his hands on your thighs and looked up to see tears running down your nose and cheeks, dropping onto your lap.

At his touch, you involuntarily pushed him away and Ransom respected your space, floating back a bit.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

“Ransom, I don’t want to be out here like this!”

You were on the verge of yelling, but instead kept your voice at a harsh whisper.

“Are you afraid someone will see us because (y/n) I can assure you they won’t. Plus, they’ve seen worse happen in this pool, trust me.” Ransom laughed, but you didn’t and he picked up on this, deciding to remain serious for the rest of the conversation.

“No it’s not that. I don’t want YOU to see me like this!”

The man swimming in front of you was in shock at such negative words coming from your mouth.

He looked at you as an absolute goddess and he often wondered why a beauty like you would stay with a mess like him.

Sure he was gorgeous on the outside, but you were both inside and out.

“You’re just saying that because you feel like you have to, Ransom.”

You huffed and looked the other way, not wanting to even glare at him.

Ransom laid his head on your lap in defeat.

“What do you want me to do? Worship you? Because I will! Oh (y/n), have mercy on me with your beauty! You are just so-”

At this point, Ransom was speaking as loud as possible and he knew he was getting on your nerves.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “OKAY OKAY. I BELIEVE YOU. Will you just hush now!?”

Ransom looked up with a devious glimmer in his eyes, before he pulled you into the pool and you squealed loudly.

“I think you are the one who should hush now, missy!”

Andy

Andy had just gotten off from work and you had just finished making a surprise dinner.

He was delighted at the sight of homemade chicken pot pie along with two bottles of old fashioned soda, a small tradition between the two of you.

You both settled down to watch a movie with your plates of chicken pot pie.

Andy had picked a movie that you’d never seen before and within five minutes your happy mood had morphed into insecurity.

Turning, you saw Andy intently watching the movie as the most perfect woman appeared on screen and the negativity sprawled from your mind, turning nothing into something.

While Andy just innocently enjoyed the movie, your inner saboteur told you that he was more so enjoying the sight of the gorgeous woman on screen.

After all he had been stuck with you, so you didn’t blame him.

Well he wasn’t actually stuck with you, but that's what you told yourself.

You told yourself that he just felt bad for you and that is why he stayed.

Andy noticed that halfway through the movie, you were uncharacteristically quiet and a sour pout on your face.

“Gosh, imagine looking like that! That would be a dream.” A bitter laugh ended your snide comment and Andy immediately shut off the tv.

“Why did you do that?!”

Andy just shook his head, “Because of what you said! (y/n), is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“All I said was that I wish I looked like her. What’s wrong with that?” You nonchalant shrugged and turned away from his hard stare.

“Honey, I can read you very well and I can tell that wasn’t just a joke.”

You were quiet and Andy continued to pry. He pulled you tight to his chest, murmuring whispers of praise causing you to break and cry quietly.

“See, even when you cry, you are pretty.”

Steve

The funny thing about insecurities is that it can turn someone into an absolute mess or monster.

In this instance it was both.

You and Steve were at a cafe, one that you had been visiting together for years now.

Today, it seemed that the cafe had hired new employees as at least four faces you didn’t recognize were waltzing around the kitchen.

It didn’t bother you until a complete beauty who introduced herself as Cara waited at your table.

At first it was like the green eyed monster had crawled out of you and you felt shameful all until gut intuition showed you that she was being a bit too friendly with Steve.

Little glances from across the room with flirty waves. At one point you swore that she winked at him.

Her tone would instantly change anytime she talked to you and that made your blood boil.

Steve noticed your change in attitude as a borderline scary scowl worked its way on your lips.

You were burning holes into the back of her head as you thought about how perfect the two would be together.

Steve tried to nudge your half of your sandwich to catch your attention as he was clueless to what was running through your head.

“Hey, doll. Why don’t you eat your sandwich? The flies are crazy and I can’t keep them away for long!” He swatted at the nagging flies, laughing at how the tiny creatures were defeating him, Captain America.

You didn’t hear any of what he said and instead mean words that never once came out of his mouth.

“Why don’t you go be with her. She’s so perfect for you anyway.”

You stood from the table and stormed out the door, the tiny bell above it mocking you.

Steve was utterly confused at this random outburst.

All he had mentioned was the sandwich, nothing about a girl, especially the waitress, whatever her name was.

Thinking back, Steve realized that she was flirting with him, but he was just so used to being friendly that he didn’t notice that he had put up such an illusion.

Especially one that hurt you.

The only word he was able to get out was “what” before he rushed out behind you.

He grabbed your arm and spun you to face him, not angry as he knew exactly how being insecure felt.

“(y/n), you are the only one who is perfect for me.”

You just fell into his arms, remembering that you were truly the only one for Steve.

#Steve Rogers #andy barber #Chris Evans #ransom drysdale #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale x reader

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rare-yanderes · 4 years ago

Text

(F/H) =favorite hobby.

I have the weirdest crush on this freaking duck and I don’t know why, so I’m taking out my confusion on this matter by making him yandere. Sorry that this is so long, boring and slow but I’m a sucker for slow burns and just dislike instant love. This went from just from headcannons to a freaking long ass story. I think I’ll make more on how the reader reacts when they find out just how mentally fucked Scrooge became.

Who knows, maybe I’ll write one for good ol’ Flinty. I have a feeling he’d just drop kick any rival he spots without much qualms about it. Meanwhile, Scrooge has a full on psychological derailment.

TW: manipulation, dependent behavior, stalking, and more.

______________

•To be honest, the likelyhood of Scrooge turning into a yandere might be higher than you think. He’s capable of self defense and can fight. He literally hunts treasure for a living. He also has a trillion dollar stockpile sitting around begging to be used for cover ups. His determination is pretty crazy, and he’s seen a lot on his adventures, things that would kind of instill a paranoia over time or an unhealthy me mentality. He can easily hide behind a professional front. Oh, and if he so wanted, he could travel and bury any evidence under a volcano. :)

•Since this is a yandere AU or, I’m gonna go with the idea that this is a what if the show had a TV-14 rating as well, so much darker themes can link and be explored.

•After pretty much a century of adventure, most of which includes violence and fighting through perils, human or not so, Scrooge is desensitized to quite a bit of violence and the dark and greedy side of the world. He’s seen the best of people and also the worst. This plays majorly in anyone who becomes a yandere; how exposed they are to people’s bad side or their own dark tendencies.

•Scrooge himself is not perfect and has demonstrated some traits of greediness, paranoia, and general distrustful behavior which is perfectly reasonable considering his work and the things he exposes himself too during it.

•Even though he loves adventure, there are a lot of bad things that happen on them that he seems to bottle up or keep to himself. Bottling up things causes a negative buildup in anyone, especially Scrooge because he expects that loving his life’s work will repair the same damage it sometimes does to him.

•Most likely, Scrooge developed an affinity with you through your similar drive for adventure. Maybe you worked for him in some way and he saw you defend someone or maybe you outsmarted one of his adversaries on an adventure he decided to bring you on. Regardless, you’ve caught his attention and this is only the beginning.

•A rival love interest’s biggest mistake is mistaking his age for a weakness. One minute he’s complaining about someone being on his lawn, the other they’re buried under it.

•Scrooge would probably connect most if he’s seen that you used to be in his shoes before, or at least a similar situation. Maybe you’re struggling financially but working your ass off to stabilize your income. As someone with the humble origins of a shoeshiner, Scrooge understands perfectly. Despite his incredible stockpile of wealth, he knows what’s it’s like to be at rock bottom.

•At first, you’re probably obviously very suprised with Scrooge’s involvement in your life. He’s from an entirely different world than yours after all, the top of the pyramid. Depending on your origins, you might react quite differently. Currently, you managed to find yourself stuck in a job you hated, working for someone you despised. It was a miserable, repetitive job that brought to your life a void of boredom.

•You craved adrenaline, even if it would get you killed, you finally figured that at least you’d go out with a spark. Putting on a smiling face, you accept a position at McDuck industries thinking that it was going to be another office job. By your luck, (or, later on, unfortunate luck), you managed to score a position that required you to be near Scrooge quite often.

•This gave both of you time to acquaint with eachother and the opportunity for him to see the potential in you as an adventurer instead of just an employee. Scrooge rarely lets people in beyond family, and is quite reserved so he himself questions what he sees in you at first, distrusting you even.

•When you are taken on your first adventure, you nearly boil over with eagerness. There’s a worry at first of the treachery involved but eventually, as you venture on more and more explorations, that fear dulls and you think the adrenaline as far more important than the possible loss of your life.

•Craving adrenaline is the main reason at first as to why you to want to stay around Scrooge. Despite his repeated attempts to brush or push you away, you find yourself excited every time you get to explore and finally get to see a world that you thought you’d never visit.

•Still, Scrooge remains cold and you can’t figure out why beyond the reason that he’s just a pessimistic old capitalist. As much as you want the adrenaline, you kinda can’t help but eventually enjoy his presence as well despite his temper and general grumpiness. Having been alone for over two decades without friends does that to someone. You needed warmth again.

•Maybe you grew attached to all the times you felt you were winning when you snubbed an artifact. Also, after collecting and sneaking a few gold coins into your own pocket, you were finally getting out of debt and on track to actually start your own business involving (F/H). You had the dream that you could travel where you wanted and finally find peace from your own mind and problems.

•Scrooge, despite his own warnings to himself not to persue, can’t help but offer you a job working for him. You made adventuring a million times better and were a great addition to the team, providing your own perspective or plan for the times he and his family would journey out. Oh, and he’d finally get the opportunity to be around you more. It was refreshing to see how optimistic you managed to remain despite your current financial predicament. (Which he contemplated solving.)

•Soon, however, Scrooge began to see that you were not as happy go lucky as you pretended to be, at least not when you weren’t on another treasure hunt. Something appeared to be gnawing at you. Deep down inside, it appeared to plague you and Scrooge began to worry for your well being and as a too curious for his own good duck, he needed to know what was going on. Especially when he had caught you quickly wiping away tears while you began to head home. What could possibly be causing you this pain?

•He had to find out and to his own realization, he had to know now. After all the times you saved and helped him, he wanted to make sure you were at least doing alright in return. He ordered Launchpad to tail you home and Launchpad, oh so very loyal, doesn’t question it much.

•Most yanderes might suffer from the constant delusion that their victims love them back or that they’re in the right but that’s not the case with Scrooge. There are times where he does try to justify himself, but this is mainly due to a fit of rage or to play innocent to you. Most of the time, he knows his actions are wrong and the burning temptation is causing a war. Very early on, he suppresses his curiosity and the growing feelings he has about you. Especially when they begin to boil into something far darker. Although he’s done this to nearly everyone, being cold to you and pushing you away seemed to be his way of trying to ensure your well being instead of his. He was finding it hard not to think about you sometimes.

•Soon enough though, he begins to grow inquisitive about your personal life as you open up to him and define yourself as a person instead of another blur. You were always quite genuine to just sit around and talk to him and despite denying it to himself, Scrooge was lonely, especially after the Spear of Selene. Sometimes you’d joke to him, sometimes you’d think philosophically. Sometimes it was just a mutual, comfortable silence.

•Scrooge might make excuses aloud to you, but doesn’t lie to himself. All the times he’s made you work later or given you an extra dose of paperwork was because he wanted to keep you around and in his line of sight. 12 hours without you was turning into a painful reminder of how isolated he was, even with Beakley around. You were a warmth, a cool, calm warmth.

• “I’ll eventually need to know her address later on in case she’s attacked by one of my adversaries anyways.” Nope, Scrooge wasn’t fooling himself with that sentiment. He knew he was invading your privacy, but he also knew that he was too nosy to care enough.

•The main problem is that although Scrooge knows a lot of what he’s doing isn’t right, he begins to care less and less. (Though this process takes quite a while.) You’re a valuable and positive part of his life, you had stayed when everyone else had abandoned him for his admittedly awful mistakes. He can’t lose another person he treasures. Especially not you. You’re becoming the shiniest yet. Losing you might mean losing himself in some sense.

•Scrooge tries to shake off the guilt but only finds that maybe it’s better to punish himself by feeling it. He’s currently following along your path to wherever your destination currently is.

•Of course, his iconic shiny limousine would be a sore thumb sticking out to both you, the media, and Duckberg in general so he makes sure to either trail far behind or to have another mode of transportation available. Regardless, Scrooge never hires another person to watch you in place.

•Scrooge doesn’t even install cameras. He’d rather experience your life from his own two eyes and not as reported from another bird or screen. He rather liked tracking you himself. It gave him a place to go and at least he’d be able to bask in your duality himself. Sometimes you cried, he found to his own breaking heart. Sometimes you’d smile, (mostly only in his presence, to his delight.)

•Most of all, though, you seem caught in the present of life. Distracted, even. It seems though, that sometimes you’re so distracted that you don’t even notice something is off. Or maybe you yourself are too unable to break the cycle of adrenaline adventure to see it. Maybe you yourself were actively creating excuses, at least at first as to why you sometimes ran into Scrooge McDuck everywhere.

•If there’s something else Scrooge is a master at other than money, it’s with keeping up the detached and reserved persona of a wealthy individual. After all, who would suspect him of such crimes like these? He’s just a selfish, greedy businessman that only cares about his wealth, right? He’d never bother with other birds unless he was shaking hands at a conference table.

•Wrong. As you and him grow to become more like mentor and student, Scrooge begins to insert himself everywhere he possible can in your life, especially after seeing the shitfest that was your social group, what little of it there was. Apparently, you’d finally made a few friends over the years working for him and there was only one out of all of them that Scrooge approved of.

•Two of them, both identical Peacock twins appeared to be fascinated with your link to him and nothing more. It made some sense. After all, who could say they were a close worker to the richest duck in the world? The other one, a tall and lanky chicken, was getting far too handsy with you, and the final, a feline male was nothing but gossip and drama.

•To add to insult, you were a pretty big pushover outside of work which meant that they would drag you to places you didn’t even want to go and pressure you to have drinks you didn’t want to taste. They were in love with the mask you put up, not the complex and amazing face behind it. The one that you were beginning to let Scrooge see.

• Scrooge watches from a distance as your laugh reverberates. The laugh appears to Scrooge as unwavered and solid, mechanical in nature like it was a reoccurring script. Gazing at your face, he could see that your smile was strained, beak scrunched. You just wanted to go home and nothing more.

•The chicken next to you he was sucking a cigarette and the smoke blew in your direction, replacing your laugh with coughing and the others cackled with drunk glee, their solo cups tipping as they did. You blew it off as an accidental push in the wind which, by the way, wasn’t even blowing.

•Out of all of them, Scrooge hated the lanky chicken, who’s name he learned was Gale, the most. You deserved far better than that. Surely you saw through his sleazy act, right? Why were you hanging around such a ratched group of birds? Just how blind were you to their usage of you?

•Almost without even realizing it himself, Scrooge had tailed you the entire way home. After having to torment himself with an hour of seeing you torment yourself, he figured that maybe you’d find something that made you happy other thanyour little flock of “friends.”

•So he was admitting to being a stalker to himself. Did that mean he’d be able to admit it to oblivious ol’ you? Well, no. At least, not for now. Not until you trust him completely. Oh well, he’ll never go further than then that, right? He was watching you, but not engaging in any way. Nothing worse could come out of it..

•Wrong.

•After a while of having you working under him at McDuck Industries, Scrooge began to realize just how much financial control he had over you. Not only did you depend on him cod for paycheck, your landlord worked for someone who worked for him. In other words, the spot of land you were living on was an apartment company that belonged to him. You were living under one of his roofs. All he’d have to do was shift some circumstances and you’d either be homeless or debt free forever. Scrooge of course, plays the benevolent route and lowers it significantly for you. Why antagonize you?

•After having taken that action, Scrooge noticed more and more of a smile on your face as you realized that you didn’t have to depend paycheck to paycheck for food on the table. He had also been aware that you had a side hobby now, involving (F/H.) sometimes you joked you’d start a business and go off parting ways with that hobby. It was source of entertainment to watch you be..Well, you. There was this genuine behavior about you that just drew him in.

•If Scrooge wasn’t adventuring with you or at a meeting also with you, he was still with you. You just didn’t know it yet. Interestingly however, you’d begun to pick up the signs that there was a presence in your life. Whereas you didn’t close the blinds before, you did now. Or maybe that was from all the adventures you’d nearly died on fighting others off. Maybe it was paranoia.

•Eventually, Scrooge managed to break into your apartment under the guise to Launchpad that he’d been invited by you. A ludicrous lie, of course, but Launchpad is gullible to a fault when it comes to Scrooge. He’s loyal like that, and his friendliness to you plays into Scrooge’s emotional manipulation later on.

•As Scrooge sneaks in while you’re still home, he makes his way behind the kitchen counter which seperated your living room. He didn’t expect you to be right there in the living room, but you were, just five feet away from him and the window he snuck in. The window was to your right. He had carefully parted the curtains. Your couch was sitting approximately five feet from the window balcony, facing a corner of the wall with the T.V off.

•Peculiarly, you hadn’t even noticed he’d entered by rigging the door. You were right there, not staring at his direction, but he should have at least appeared in your peripheral. Just what were you doing to be so disconnected to the reality around you? It was worrying.

•Now hidden behind the counter directly to the left of you, he observes your desensitized form. For a moment, Scrooge thought you were a corpse until he peered closer. You were still there, physically. Mentally you looked as if you were in a whole other dimension. In a rather bold move, Scrooge slowly stands up and positions himself in the archway, watching you from his spot.

•You were still, so very still unlike all the times you’d fidget at work or with those “friends.” You still breathed and your hands shook slightly and there was color to your eyes but you yourself didn’t even seem present whatsoever. Your eyes were glazed and far away. It was just your body sitting there in that couch. It was worrisome and yet there was a blissful smile to your face seconds later.

•It was you, daydreaming about something. Something you obviously enjoyed. Scrooge, to his own shame, hoped it involved him. For a few more moments, all you did was sigh like you were meditating. It was haunting how easily you had lost yourself within the confines of your tumbling mind. Somehow, you were blocking out the world beyond, maladaptively.

• Scrooge knew he was taking a huge risk. All you’d have to do to spot him now was swivel your head a few inches or wake up from dreamland. It would take a few inches to ruin what you thought of him.

Just then, to Scrooge’s horror, you had slowly picked yourself off the couch. Your body shuttered as your head snapped up. He knew he was taking a huge risk with this and began to think that maybe it was a terrible idea after all. (Who was he kidding, it was terrible in the first place, he knew what he was doing.)

•He quickly fell back to his crouched position behind the counter, silently and expertly as you turned around and made your way closer and closer. There was a tense moment in which Scrooge contemplated just knocking you down completely and rendering you unconscious. All it would take was a few seconds. Maybe you’d forget or maybe he’d give you the dreamland you seemed so desperate to reach. It would certainly give him peace of mind to know where you are 24/7..All he’d have to do is knock you out and take you to the manor. You’d be secure and have everything you need there…

•Your presence was setting him alight, in the good way and bad way. He loved being near you. But hated the idea of you getting any closer right now, because you getting any closer would ruin your trust in him entirely. A few more steps is all there was between the idol you saw Scrooge as and the monster he was growing to be. You were like a fire. The heat scorched his feathers. Then, when you were away, his thoughts.

•Your steps were louder than they’d ever been. Then, to Scrooge’s unbelievable luck, you turned towards the hallway away from the kitchen. Scrooge knew not to push his luck trying to follow or stay, so despite his clawing urge to figure you out, he hesitantly snuck out with unanswered questions on your concerning mental state.

•It had been a months since that incident and Scrooge was moving onto bigger and bolder actions. Sometimes he’d swipe you away from any conversations you had with your friends by calling you in for a task. Sometimes he’d eat up all your time by keeping you in late, and taking you to places far away that required days of travel.

•Sometimes he’d drive bad influences away by financially ruining their life forever.

You noticed Gale’s downfall quickly, but you didn’t have any idea it was Scrooge who was responsible. Gale lived actually, three complexes from you and oh so suddenly, rent had begun to skyrocket in the particular room he had to himself. This led to him being presented with an eviction notice. You didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. (Not that you wanted to, though.) deep down you were glad he was gone and Scrooge knew it. Gale had to move far off to find an affordable spot. It was a mercy considering how often Scrooge had dreamed of just throwing him into the ocean tied up for the sharks to find. He was a toxic influence.

•Maybe if someone pushed his button just right, Scrooge would end up killing them, and who would care? There were seven billion fellow people on the planet. Scrooge could just get rid of any threat he wanted and no one would notice or ever suspect it was him. After all, he’s just a grumpy old man with a cane.

•It turns out, Scrooge had picked up on your plans to possibly quit your job. He had never felt his heart sink like it did now. He was fighting off his initial shock as you stood in his office, masking it with a detached face. You hadn’t even confirmed the statement. All you’d said was that maybe you’d found a company within your favorite hobby.

•It was just a small implication. But, Implications could become statements, which could turn into actions, and Scrooge couldn’t let the thought even be a presence in your mind.

•You had stayed with him throughout the years of his loneliest moments, had confessed secrets, had confided in him. You were like his pupil, learning from him and you were like his partner, fighting alongside him. Maybe you were something different altogether.

•...Was it a friend that convinced you? It had to be. Scrooge knew how much you enjoyed galavanting around the world with him. There’s no way you’d just fly off without him.-

“I promise I’ll still occasionally go with you, Scrooge. (A first name basis. This was devolving from anything normal.) I found my passion. We can still adventure together, but I found a path that also makes me happy and doesn’t ya know, get me killed.” You chuckle as if it were nothing. A light joke.

•So you were leaving. You were going to go. Why? You had a great paycheck, (an expensive one that took a lot of money,) you had the opportunity to travel the world. You had the best job you’d ever get. Who else was going to be as good as him? He won’t let you destroy your future by applying for a Mediocre position at some dumptruck company.

•As it turns out, the bird responsible for swaying you was none other than one of the peacocks, her name was Shelby. She and you laughed, and for the first time, your laugh was genuine. Genuine with her and not with Scrooge. You both shared each other’s stories, and she in return had encouraged your little dangerous fantasy of being independent.

•Now of course Scrooge realized how ridiculous this all sounded. He had willingly allowed you to go on perilous adventures with him, but at least then, you were with him. How could he keep an easy eye on you if you just moved off to some rando spot? Plus, he was plenty good as saving you. He was your hero.

•Bad influences needed to go away.

•Scrooge might lie to himself about how much it digs under his feathers, but to see you around other people really dug wrong. He itched every time you decided to take advice from other people, or confide in them instead of him. He was the one you could go to, not them. Your secrets didn’t need to be shared with anyone else but Scrooge. All those rare and precious things that made you yourself didn’t need to be snatched by thieves like Shelby or Gale or whoever else.

•He knew that his criminal actions would scare you. Even with your growing trust and dependence on him, he knew it was too early for you to want to stay with him if you knew what he’s been doing. If he wanted your presence, he’d keep it through lengths you’d find terrifying.

•Scrooge found your biggest flaw was that you always attracted the wrong crowd, and it was primarily because you were always trying to impress others when they really didn’t deserve the magnificent canvas you painted yourself to be. To his even greater detriment, you were beginning to spend your time more and more with Shelby. The canvas you painted was beautiful, as always. But it wasn’t for him, and he found that he was not happy with this new development.

•Don’t you know people take advantage of kindness? It happened to him all the time and still does. It happened to you over and over and yet you kept venturing forth giving out your trust like it was nothing. The world is a sour place if you’re not careful. Cursed kilts, you were already naive about Gale. Who knows how badly future people would hurt you, even if they were well intentioned.

Scrooge could tell that, despite him insisting otherwise, you thought leaning on his shoulder was burdening him. He wanted to make sure you knew it was anything but that. As a matter of fact, he wanted you to lean on his shoulder every moment he possibly could get you to. What was just you occasionally asking for advice on impersonal things becomes entire sessions with Scrooge encouraging you to reveal every personal detail of your life.

•You had revealed that many times, you just wanted independence. A company of your own to possibly build so you could pursue life your own way. Scrooge knew these dangerous thoughts were one of the final roadblocks. Scrooge had to prevent them. Be it through roughening you up financially or discouraging you. Be it from murdering outside influences, too. Who was going to miss the miserable miscreants that plagued your life anyways?

•It is three days before the date you had decided that you would resign. Instead of being merry, you were miserable. The opportunity you had to get the job was burned by them not even calling you for an interview. After your resume, why would they reject you? You had the word of one of the finest businessmen out there to back you up. Scrooge himself promised to put in a good word for you! You were perfectly qualified for the job you were looking for. In your days of being rejected from the position you wanted, you confide in Scrooge. You don’t know it but as he pats your shoulder, he’s thinking of the next way to sabotage your efforts of leaving him.

•Shelby ends up going missing. She was one of your closest friends and the only one who finally treated you well. Your devastation causes a major setback in any ambitious plans as you isolate yourself from anyone else but only the closest person left in your life; Scrooge.

•Currently, you were enveloped in a warm hug, the side of your face leaning in the crook of Scrooge’s neck as he calmed your crying form down, patting your back and promising you his presence would remain forever. You wept at Shelby’s funeral, so did her twin sister and their parents, who, upon seeing Scrooge, had nearly fainted in shock.

•Despite your tumultuous relationship with Shelby, she had actually begun to redeem much of her previously antagonistic actions towards you. She was in a rough place when you had developed a connection with her. So you wept in your boss’s, or rather, your best confidantes arms. You wept.

Scrooge, however, did not.

#yandere #obsession #yandere ducktales #scrooge mcduck #headcanons #yandere x reader #reader insert #platonic or romantic #ducktales #cartoon #yandere Scrooge McDuck #minors do not interact #murder #this is weird I know #dt 2017 #ducktales 2017

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prof-peach · 4 years ago

Note

Out of all of the pokemon you have taken care of, which one do you think it was the hardest to deal with? Be cuz they were in a pretty bad shape, or just personality wise?

We get rumbunctious and rowdy Pokemon all the time, our works nature brings them to us probably more than any other issue, outside of grass Pokemon care and management. Anger and nervousness is something we have a good hold of here, and try to help iron out of various species. I do a lot of that work, and on occasion, Grey will do the odd water type with these problems, as I tend to shy away from those. For the most part, they are short stint stays, a couple months, to a couple years helping them to rewire their anger into a more productive feeling or energy. That being said, there’s alwasy the odd Pokemon who comes our way who’s just a step above the rest. So here’s some stories of the ones who have had to stay with us, for their temperament and behaviour.

On the north side of the island, we house the biggest, meanest Pokemon, and the individuals who are very timid and nervous around people. We do this to ensure they have space to live undisturbed in peace, but also to protect guests and visitors from being eaten, crushed, blasted, or otherwise harmed. Some of the northern residents are difficult yes, but most are just stroppy or uncomfortable with the majority of humans, but there are a handful that are actively engaged in harming or hunting people.

One such Pokemon is a rather nasty tempered Drampa, he came to us about five or so years ago now, kindly donated by being abandoned on our shores, it’s original trainer leaving the ball and hopping on a boat without alerting us, or letting the individual know. We figured it would be possible to rehome it, they’re usually a rather reasonable Pokemon to handle, considering their typing. We were wrong. This Pokemon when let out of the ball, went on a monsterous rampage for four days, destroying forests, toppling buildings, blasting holes in the mountain to try to burrow away, and picking fights with anything it’s size or bigger, often causing great harm to others. The island didn’t rest for that entire time, most Pokemon cowering from it, bigger species trying to halt them, all in vain. It took an entire troop of grass Pokemon using sleep powder to knock it out, the Drampa moved about so fast, one single grass type didn’t stand a chance to produce enough spores in time. It took a lot of work but we knocked the old boy out, and got a good look at him. His body was riddled with arthritis, not medicated, he would thrash about and cause himself so much pain and discomfort. He had overgrown nails, the feet hidden in the fur they have around their torso, often overlooked, and it’s ability to fly was limited because of its general condition and state. We began helping it, medicating it’s aislments, aiding it’s inflamed joints, but it never really calmed down, so now it chills out alone on the coast of the north side, left well alone, it doesn’t even like the company of other Pokemon.

We’ve done our best to interact with it, to socialise it, to generally get it use to people enough to do medical checks, but it’s still very resistant. We have decided that after two years of hard work, and it being tolerant to me, at least to check it’s health and wellbeing, that it’s best to let it live it’s life unbothered. Many would push a Pokemon to be a perfect social being, but we don’t believe it’s necessary for happiness. Some species are happy to be away from others, I wouldn’t push a human to be social, I know how awful that can be, so we didn’t force the individual to be around others either. It’s not that it’s unhappy, we spot it from time to time sitting on the rocks by the ocean, humming to itself, and the small pidgey and tailow that come by don’t bother it, and even give mild brief conversation. He seems ok, the medicine given means he’s in less pain, despite still having stiffness, and in the winter we’ve built him a unique space, rocky cover much like a cave, just above a Macargo hide where they lay eggs. The heat from those Pokemon keep its cave very hot, and help in the cold to ease the joint aches. The two species have different entrances, making sure they never meet within the hide at any point. There’s a good slab of rock dividing them, so it’s not an issue, and saves us having to pipe hot water over that far for him. He eats well, has a few items he’s kept from the labs, a toy sentret, and a large red ball, and generally is in a good place to live out his life in peace now.

Another difficult member would be a particularly timid Slazzle, gifted to us by a police member who had confiscated it from a rather mean individual close to her home town, they had been hurting the poor Pokemon, forcing it to produce an insane amount of poison liquid, throwing water on the poor thing every time it tried to ignite to retaliate, generally abusing the poor thing for its life, apparently it had been locked away since it was a young unevolved Pokemon. They’d been harvesting the poisons from the Slazzle and dropping it into various water sources to try to control the local Pokemon population, as they blamed the wild ones for the state of their land, and diminished crops yield from their allotment. Jokes on them, that water poisoning affected them too, and their garden died very quickly, and made the man quite sick through consumption of the crops he grew there. The slazzle is still very skittish, will hide at any given moment, we’ve seen her ignite an entire building in one move, and then bolt away through the flames to lose our line of sight. She managed to stay hidden for two weeks on the island, before we caught sight of her again. Generally she’s just a case fo neglect but we have been working with her now for a long while, 3 ish years, and her temperament is at least manageable amongst our staff. We have found her others of her kind to help her settle, and she’s become good friends with a Wartortle who came from the same area, they bond over memories of the place, and seem very happy in each others company.

We’ve found ways to keep her grounded, but she never goes near people when we have open days, slinks off through the big fence to the north side, and waits out the visiting hours until night. They’re not usually nocturnal but she likes the night, and spends her time looking about, foraging and feeding in the later hours. If you’re quiet you can catch her moving around the forests and the base of the mountains here, talking with the occasional individual, she seems to enjoy Murkrow too, their company seems to keep her quite social, as they usually move in large flocks here. She may never be rehomed, but for now we try to socialise her, we don’t battle her, and she has a very calm and peaceful nook to go to when she’s having a rough time. We make sure to provide support where possible, and though she’s a little skittish she’s somewhat happy to have myself and Grey, even Pari take a look at any wounds or scrapes she may gain while living here. She’s become trusting enough to come to us if we call, and who knows, maybe someone will come our way who she takes an interest in. There’s hope for her yet, we have however become quite fond of her, and she’s part of the furniture now. It may end up that she never leaves, and lives her life in peace here, surrounded by people and Pokemon who love her. Her panic makes her very difficult to pass to another trainer, and she’s prone to spitting up huge quantities of toxic liquid when spooked, and bolts at a slight bang or rumble.

One I have kept back for a number of reasons, is a rather mean tempered Aerodactyl. Normally we get Pokemon sent to us, but this one I ended up finding myself, some circus had her chained up in a box hardly big enough to turn around in, an attraction to the masses as they travelled through the area. The leader of that troop was particularly awful, treating Pokemon as commodities, items to be bought and sold, used as toys in his big performances. Boiled my blood. We called her Zeplin, and after 12 years she has still got a nasty temper on her, when not focused on a task. Her condition when we first found her was quite something, tattered wings, unable to fly straight at all, and she was littered with cuts and bruises, not in good health. Val has melted the chains that bound her, and the lock in her cage, and she just went, like a bat out of hell, flew off, blasting the tent that hid her quarters, burning a lot of the circus as she went. Little did I know, my foot was in one of the chain links, and I got dragged off with her, the ground, Val, all my other team mates, falling from my pocket, or being left on the floor where we had once been standing. She flew, and kept going, not aware I was still attached, you could see her wings were having a hard time catching the breeze, littered with holes and tears, she went for about two hours, I nearly froze that high up, trying to get a good grip on what chain was left so I didn’t come falling from that height. We came to a very sudden crash landing, she hadn’t had much chance to practice the whole take off - land thing from the feel of it, we both ate dirt, and she became very aware that I was there all of a sudden.

I had about three seconds while she assessed my presence, to get out of the chain, and dive behind a rock that gave me cover from an almighty blast of energy, chipping away bits, catching my arm a little. Trust me when I say, it’s terrifying coming face to face with something that stands a fair few meters taller than you, with more teeth and claws than you’re comfortable with dealing with, with none of your Pokemon, no weaponry, no real plan or cover other than a rock. How she didn’t eat me, I don’t know. Perhaps she knew it was me that let her go, maybe she just ran out of energy, but for whatever reason, she made a few bits and tail lashes at me, missed the lot, and gave up, turning to stomp off into the forests around us. She was still shackled with heavy irons, one on the neck, two on the legs, and was in serious condition, so I did the stupid thing and followed her, tried to sneak my way behind, though every now and then she would look towards me, and try to focus on my form in the dark of night now. It was a few days, she had stalked some prey, fed, and was starting to ooze from some wounds. Though the circus was unkind, they were providing her with medication that stopped further infections occurring, perhaps a scarred beast of great size drew more punters, maybe they were just making sure she survived to make them money, I still don’t know.

I hunted herbs, dug out roots with rocks, used river water, and common berries and managed to fashion some kind of salve, nothing amazing, especially back at that age, but it would work, I knew it would because I used it on my own wounds first. Just had to convince her it was a good thing to let me get close. Not an easy task. We physically brawled, she was clearly spent, not able to use any attacks, just thrashing about, I managed to trip her with the chains still attached to her legs, and once downed, you can jump on the head of these Pokemon to keep the jaws shut, just long enough to lather the wounds you can reach, then bolt fast. It was a small act, but she took off running again. With some wounds sort of cared for, I followed again, fishing for dinner, forraging roots to chew on. It wasn’t much but it kept me going, then one night, where I had climbed to a crook of a large tree, using my jacket to tie myself in for a nights sleep, I was awoken by loud rustling, thudding of feet, and a mighty huff.

Below where I sat, the Pokemon had returned, being no doubt well aware of my presence, following the smell of human, she had noticed the salve do a good job on the wounds I managed to reach, but the ones I couldn’t get near had become far worse, red, inflamed and weeping terribly, no doubt hurting and itching. I’d seen her rubbing her sides in the day, itching gasinst rocks and trees, smearing blood and ooze along her path as she trudged. So here we were, alone in the woods, I veeeeery carefully climbed down, staying in cover as much as possible, and over the space of an hour or two, she let me come out into the open, teeth bared yeah, but she hadn’t attacked, and other than a very uncomfortable, low growl, she allowed me to creep closer, some more of that salve made more for my own wounds than hers, being sniffed at, she licked it too, but wasn’t happy with the taste, very bitter, and I was cautiously optimistic, allowed to help her heal the rest of the cuts she had acquired from her old home. So we began our....I want to say friendship but that wasn’t it, it was a collaboration to survive.

We had landed somewhere far from others, I missed my team, and she had never experienced anything outside of the cage, and so we banded together, tentatively. We caught dinner as a team, and climbed for fruits, foraged for berries, reapplying what loose form of medicine I managed to make, before coming to some kind of comfortable companionship together. A week passed, wandering without a clue where we were, before a path was found, she seemed to want to avoid it, and while I wasn’t keen on people much either, it was impossible not to want to find my team again. They needed me, and I needed them. If they had been found, a police officer or the likes may have sent them to my original professor, waiting to be called from the PC system again, but knowing Val, she had grabbed the balls, my things, and bolted to hide, waiting for my return. In desperation I tried to explain this to the Aerodactyl, who had not experienced a trainers care before, and seemed reluctant to return.

It was only upon mentioning revenge, to burn the circus to the ground, that I regained her attention, and we came to a slow agreement to get aid, gather items, and return to where she had been released from. She waited in the forest while I went to town, checking my PC space to see if my team had been handed in, which they had! It was lucky, I was reunited with Val (vulpix), Booker (teddiursa), and Potato (bulbasaur) who I took back, and returned to the woods with.

We had to get some revenge, and in turn we devised a plan to free the Pokemon first, sneak in and pick the locks, melt the chains and gates, and then finally, let the aerodactyl do her thing once the vulnerable individuals were loose. I did my best to hold back my own personal rage, and simply aid the demise of a group who were awful towards Pokemon through this one big flying type. I wint go into details but no one perished in the fire, they were arrested and charged for unsafe work conditions, and abuse towards Pokemon, not to mention false advertising, having no worker’s Compensation in pace for injury, which many staff complained of, and several incidents of sexual harassment in the work place that were brought to light.

Once one started to talk, the others all joined in, and the fire was put down to unsafe working conditions and a lack of health and safety. From what I heard, the whole circus worth of Pokemon were rehomed, helped and generally lived much better lives after that. However now we had one very mistrusting angry Aerodactyl on our hands, a Pokemon I had not worked with before, who had seemingly become quite tolerant of me, but would snap at just about anyone who clocked eyes with her. So I kind of just kept her, no ball, not for a fair few years, we both didn’t think it was important. She was nursed back to health, and we had to go through a lot of training together, she bit booker once quite badly, but we’ve all put that in the past, and have worked on it together.

She is still testing, she won’t be ridden by anyone else, she doesn’t care for other Pokemon much, crowds will spook her, she doesn’t like when people talk with raised voices or hostile tones, and gets real irritable if you come at her in any kind of way that isn’t open handed, calm and slowly. She’s now a very capable flier, wings healed up, spending her first half of life locked up made her long for the open sky, so now we take time together to go off and ride winds when work is slow, and she’s helped in many ways to make the island functional, by moving logs, clearing paths, helping lift building materials around, and generally being there for me when I’m full of rage, which is actually annoyingly often. We’re anger buddies hah, kind of get on the same level with it. She’s become so much part of my family, and I feel like i’m part of hers now too, so I doubt she’d be rehomed, but should she find somewhere she would rather be, we wouldn’t stop her going. She is difficult, angry, snappy, tempermental, difficult, won’t be touched by strangers, likes to fight, but I’d not change her, she’s our testing monster, who we love and adore.

Went off a bit, but I figured why not, I know her, and can write more about her life and story than the others.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks #long post

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years ago

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Death & Dowries

Summary: The Iron Bank of Braavos will always have its due. But dowries make things…complicated and the pride of men knows no bounds. A bargain is struck between a Keyholder of the Iron Bank and Tywin Lannister and the life of an adventurous woman is suddenly uprooted as she is made the newest Lady of Casterly Rock. But the wedding of King Joffrey Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell brings a familiar face to King’s Landing and a Braavosi woman always has a backup plan.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/F!Reader, (arranged) Tywin Lannister/F!Reader, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

WARNINGS: Spousal abuse, death, murder, lite smut, my over-use of italics, mentions of child birth and babies (please DO NOT read if any of this will upset you)

Word Count: 12.1k (heavy sigh)

(banner by my love @starlight-starwrites )

A/N: The italics denote the “present” time. Circa Season 7 Episode 7. I’m going to throw a lot of ASOIAF lore at you so, if you have ANY questions, please just ask!

You can read this on Ao3, if you prefer!

She had hoped to never step foot into this wretched city again. But Cersei had called and she knew she must answer to keep the unstable queen from looking too closely. And, of course, she wanted to see a dragon.

What she did not expect to see was a familiar shade of yellow and orange while a recognizable laugh rang in the tense air. She froze at the entrance and her handmaiden smacked into her back. “I am so sorry, my lady,” she whispered.

The sudden noise drew attention and soon Oberyn and Ellaria were standing from their seats, kind eyes locked on her.

Westeros was nothing that her father had promised when he set her on the ship and sent her away from home. It was supposed to be exciting and new and beautiful and everything she wanted in a home. Instead, she had been gifted a cold castle filled with portraits of a woman who she was supposed to be replacing and an old man for a betrothed.

But even the Keyholders of the Iron Bank of Braavos knew of Tywin Lannister. "He is a powerful man. You will be well-cared for and loved by the people you govern, my sweet," her father said, his smile not quite touching his eyes. "That is all I want for you."

It was a lie. A pretty lie, but a lie all the same. Her father and a handful of other Keyholders all had daughters of the marrying age and had created a terrible, unspoken game between them. Everything had a price. Especially to the men and women who controlled the keys to the Iron Bank.

Dowries for their daughters were boasted and bartered. Whomever paid the most, bragged that their line was as coveted as a princess.

It was all ridiculous. A stupid game. Especially for people who usually wanted to protect their coin.

Y/N was thankful she had no sisters so that they would not be subjected to this prick-measuring game, too.

Whispers had spread through Braavos when her father had set her betrothal.

It was a dowry worthy of four princesses of old, surely.

But Tywin Lannister would not see a single coin.

An almost flawless plan, Y/N thought. Her father would pay half of the Iron Throne's debts to the Bank in exchange for Y/N becoming the new Lady of Casterly Rock. For as large as her dowry was, Y/N was only slightly amused at how small her wedding festivities were when she arrived at King’s Landing. A handful of people, mostly Lannisters and their bannermen, and the three handmaidens she had brought with her from Braavos. The furnishings were fine and the food was almost salted correctly but it was small. Tywin wrapped her in a crimson red cloak and kissed her with unmoving lips and she had become Lady Y/N Lannister, a lion of the rock.

And that was it. Little fanfare and her life was completely uprooted. And as the days continued to pass, she doubted she would ever find a bit of happiness in her new station.

She had to keep herself from yawning as Tywin rutted above her, grunting like an old boar. But he finished soon enough and rolled off of her and grabbed his robe. As soon as it was fastened around his waist, he strode out of her chambers without a look back.

The door opened soon after and her small horde of handmaidens quickly entered, already bringing her a steaming pot of tea and a balm for her skin where her lord husband always clutched too tight.

She had given up on telling him it hurt after the first fortnight and considered herself at least a little lucky that the old man still knew how to move his hips.

“How do you fare, my lady?” One handmaiden asked in the lilting tongue of the Braavosi dialect of High Valyrian. She quickly pressed a cup of tea into Y/N’s hands.

“Better, now that you are all here with me.”

One took to changing the bed coverings and another helped her stand and quickly began to wash her skin with steaming water scented with roses. The tea was bitter on her tongue but she quickly drank it and let another handmaiden take the empty cup from her hand as soon as it was finished.

“Have the kitchen maids asked what the tea is again?”

“Not since we told them it was a magical potion to guarantee a boy and that it was filled with the blood of a calf and ash from the Doom.” One of them smiled, remembering how the nosey maids nearly fainted at the sound of their lie. It was an ingenious ruse, if she was being honest. Y/N knew that most of the servants in Casterly Rock reported to Tywin about her movements and the company she kept. Thinking she was a witch who relied on bloodmagic easily discounted anything they whispered to her lord husband. And it also kept them from truly investigating her tea—not that anyone on this stupid continent would be able to name it anyway. The root her handmaids boiled for her every time Tywin visited her chamber was not anything magical or arcane.

It was an old recipe from the famed pleasure houses of Braavos—to prevent pregnancy. And it was working remarkably well. The maester had confirmed her fertility so she knew Tywin was probably doubting his own ability as the months continued to trickle by and she was yet to become pregnant. The thought made her laugh. As did the truth that Tywin would never get he had anticipated with the betrothal agreement he had signed with her father. She had decided that as soon as he had sneered at her on their wedding night and said, “I suppose you will do,” before taking what he needed from her body without care for her at all. And whenever he visited her bed, his hands were always too tight, too rough and would not relent even when tears pricked at her eyes and slid down her cheeks. He never stopped. He never cared. Even when his dislike of her as a person evolved to curling his hands into her arms and leaving her with swollen eyes and tender skin. He always made sure they were alone when he raised his hands to her, but he seemed fond of doing so whenever she ever disagreed with him.

She knew that other Keyholders thought her father foolish for her hefty dowry—a steep price to pay for pride. But her mother once said that while blood will open the door, clout will get you a seat at the table.

Her father had the gold to spare, she supposed. And she always wanted a kingdom of her own.

Now…now one was finally within her grasp. Even if it came with such a poor consort. That was what she told herself, anyway.

Just as she was dressed for the day, her chamber door opened again and a servant strode in, eyes darting around the gaggle of women as if searching for something to report. His mouth opened and he informed them all that Lord Tywin had been called to the Riverlands and left her in charge of Casterly Rock. She had heard whispers of the War of the Five Kings from high and lowborn alike. It was a shame that she was kept so far from the action she was so accustomed to at least witnessing with a spyglass from her chamber windows. The Keyholders often had a stake in the wars fought around Westeros and Essos. Having allies in positions of power meant they were in positions of power—and funding their successes meant that they had bargaining chips in collecting debts. Plus interest.

She almost smiled. Finally, a bit of intrigue.

Y/N took her seat under the canopy after dismissing her handmaidens and guards, telling them to treat themselves to a well-earned drink at a nearby inn as she noticed the incoming crowd of Dothraki, ‘escorted’ by a band of knights. She only let her eyes move to see Oberyn and Ellaria, the Dornish envoy, for a moment. Their reaction to her arrival had been just as unexpected as their presence. Dangerous. Dangerous.

This whole game was dangerous. And now the King in the North and the Dragon Queen had called for a temporary armistice for some strange reason.

“They tell me that the Westerlands have been flourishing.”

The voice at her side almost had her jumping. It was Tyrion, looking far more bristled than the last time she had seen him, when he had been carted away to the Black Cells. “Yes, well. Apparently I’m quite suited for the task.”

Tyrion’s answering smile was small and he nodded just once. “Yes, I suppose my father would have taught you well-”

“He had nothing to do with it.”

Casterly Rock was a delight to have to herself. Even the servants who would whisper her movements into her lord husband’s ear seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when each raven stated Tywin would be away from his seat of power for another fortnight and then another and another. When the Westerlands were being raided by Northmen, led by the adorably pugnacious King Robb Stark, she was happy to open the gates to allow some of the children and ladies of sworn houses to take shelter in the fortress and to give food and water to the knights and bannermen who made camp outside their walls before setting off toward battle.

She arranged marriages between houses and presided over small disagreements brought before her to settle. It reminded her of the time she spent with her dearest friend Bellegere at her famed pleasure house in Braavos and how Bellegere managed each and every bit of everything under her roof and made it all seem so effortless.

That was her kingdom.

And now Casterly Rock was Y/N’s, and she would let no one take it from her.

No one.

“You are happy, my lady,” one of her handmaidens said as they retired for the night. It had been two moons since Tywin had left her to play at war. “I have not seen you this happy since before we left Braavos.”

Y/N hummed and let her wipe the day’s dirt from her skin with a roll of silk dampened with cold cream. “I suppose I should start finding some sort of happiness, no?” She sighed. “Are you happy here?”

Her handmaidens nodded, varying degrees of smiles on their faces. “You know that we had no happiness in Braavos. You have given us hope, just as you have given these strange people hope, too.” They helped her into her sleeping gown and Y/N remembered the places she had plucked her handmaidens from. Cruel noble homes, cruel lowborn homes, temples with dark corners, merchant shops filled with bright tapestries, pleasure houses. Each of them found a new place beside Y/N. And she found friends with them, security and safety.

“We can find a home here,” Y/N whispered to each of them before bidding them goodnight. And she hoped it was true. She needed it to be true.

When the raven came, telling her to come to King’s Landing, she was hesitant to pack her trunks and arrange for the castellan to oversee the governance of Casterly Rock. But she had duties. And, despite knowing she was actively keeping herself from completing one of them, she knew she could not refuse Tywin Lannister. Especially after the Realm (or at least part of it) was hailing him as a hero for breaking the siege on King’s Landing and managing to gain the allegiance of the Reach—such a stupid name for a kingdom—for the Crown. So, she had her trunks packed with her fine gowns and made sure the guests she had allowed to stay in Casterly Rock would be looked after before having the traveling party readied for the trek across the continent. One of the knights, a man who reeked of strongwine and needed to trim his beard, spoke animatedly about the battles Tywin won across the Westerlands and Riverlands on behalf of his grandson, Joffrey. “For the betterment of the Realm,” the knight would finish each story. She doubted it. But she pretended to listen anyway. Y/N truly did not care to listen to the finite details or commit most of them to memory. What she did, however, notice was the distinct smell of piss and soured bread as soon as her wheelhouse and travelling party crested the hill just outside the city gates after several weeks of being confined to the wheelhouse or stuffy inn rooms.

“My lady,” one of her handmaiden’s muttered, “we are going to suffocate.”

Y/N patted her hand with a sigh before spilling a bit of perfume onto each of their kerchiefs to hold under their noses. “Perhaps they will have a garden where we can escape the stench.”

When they arrived at the Red Keep—and such an unimaginative name—she was almost pleased to see that most of the royal family and quite a few courtiers and servants had come to welcome them. Cersei, a face she knew well from the many portraits in the halls of Casterly Rock, only offered a quick sneer and an insincere, “welcome, Lady Lannister, to King’s Landing,” before she quickly left. Joffrey, the brat-boy-king if the whispers were true, looked suspiciously like his mother and also offered a sneer. Tommen was far kinder and offered to show her to her chambers but she declined, knowing that having a prince show her around like a servant would only gain her more ire from the queen dowager.

And then that left…

“Lady Stark,” Y/N said, stepping to the redhead’s side. Yes, she knew of Sansa Stark. The sad little Northern girl who saw her father’s head put on a spike—and apparently one of her brothers was one of the Five Kings running around causing amuck. How fun.

The younger girl curtseyed and murmured a soft hello. “I hope you find the capitol pleasing, my lady.”

She hummed and reached out to take Sansa’s and, wrapping it into the crook of her arm. “I doubt I will. But I shall like it if we were to become friends.”

Sansa’s blue eyes flittered across Y/N’s face and then to the small hoard of handmaidens behind her. “Whatever you wish, my lady.”

Weeks trickled by and Y/N found herself actually enjoying the company of the little wolf pup. She detested the Lannisters and had a quick but sweet wit when she was not in the company of Cersei or Joffrey who seemed to terrify her to no end. Y/N found it funny that Cersei assumed she would report anything and everything Sansa did while in her company. “What would you have her do other than enjoy a bit of tea and some lemon cakes? It is not as if you have given her duties beyond looking pretty.” Her handmaidens even told her that Cersei requested they report back anything they heard Sansa say.

“The poor girl,” they mused. “She is alone here.”

“Yes,” Y/N agreed, “and so are we.” And they were. They were still whispered about by servants and courtiers alike, their movements watched like a mummers’ performance and then hissed into the queen or the new Hand of the King’s ears. The only time they found themselves truly alone was when they were in the company of the Tyrells. Margaery and Olenna were gratuitous social climbers but at least they were smart and she did not feel the need to continue to play the dutiful Lady Lannister in their presence. They had no real love for the Lannisters aside from realizing that the golden lions were the true power in this stupid kingdom and knowing that they needed to at least have a few of them on their side. And Sansa seemed a little relaxed in their presence as well. After her betrothal to Joffrey was broken in favor of Margaery and the Tyrell gold, the young redhead was a tiny bit more…unclenched, especially after being pressed to detail the abuse she survived at the hands of the brat king. Y/N remembered gently wiping the tears away from Sansa’s cheeks after they left the Tyrells. Sansa had recounted her abuse at the hands of Joffrey and his mother. “It is over now, little pup. He shall not harm you again. I promise you that.”

Sansa only nodded and was still very guarded and it was smart to be so but Y/N was happy to see her smile a little more freely.

The smiles stopped when Tywin announced that Sansa was to wed Tyrion.

The girl cried and cried and cried. But only when they were alone and the lemon cakes she’d taken from the kitchen were only crumbs. Shae, Sansa’s handmaiden, always lingered after being dismissed. Y/N was sure she was another spy—but not for Cersei. But it did not matter. What mattered was the crying wolf pup in her arms.

“I can’t do it. I can’t,” Sansa cried, tears wetting Y/N’s dress.

Y/N could only shush her sobs, knowing that Tywin always had his due—well, almost always. “I will make sure you are safe, pup. I promise you that.”

Y/N stood, as she was expected to do, when Cersei entered the Dragon Pit and curtseyed as Cersei moved in front of her to take her own seat. The air was tense. Everyone was staring at each other, measuring threats with bated breath.

Y/N had been surprised to see Theon Greyjoy present—after all, it had been a Greyjoy fleet that had destroyed the ship that was carrying little Princess Myrcella back to the Red Keep from Sunspear. It had been a Greyjoy that had given the final push for Cersei to descend into her carefully curated madness. But, then again, Cersei had a Greyjoy of her own, too. Verbal volleys were made and Y/N might have enjoyed listening to the traded barbs but she continued to feel someone’s gaze on the side of her face.

She knew who was looking at her—it did not take any stretch of imagination or serious thought.

She knew.

And a dragon roared overhead.

“Take this, pup.” Y/N curled Sansa’s shaking fingers around the small bottle with an even smaller smile.

“What is it?” Sansa was beautiful in her golden wedding dress—beautiful and sad. Handmaidens had just finished twisting her hair into the ridiculous braids Cersei was so fond of and then scattered when Y/N and her flock of Braavosi women arrived. They had taken to dashing away when the Braavosi women arrived after Y/N had all but screamed at them when they would not let Sansa have a moment alone after news of the tactlessly named Red Wedding had reached King’s Landing. Her entire family—gone. Y/N would not see the little pup suffer for another moment.

It had earned her a busted lip and a sore wrist from her dear husband.

“It is a gift.” Y/N patted Sansa’s hand. “One drop will give you a night’s reprieve from your husband. The entire bottle will give your husband…a reprieve of his breath.”

Sansa turned and turned and turned the bottle in her hand. “Poison?”

“Yes, pup. And it is merely a precaution. I would not have you fear for your life in your marital bed.”

“Do you think Tyrion would hurt me?”

“He is the gentlest of his siblings, but it is never unwise to have a dagger up your sleeve.” Y/N stood and took Sansa’s hands in hers after watching her carefully tuck the bottle away into the folds of her dress. “Come, I am allowed to escort you to the Sept.”

“We’ve been here for some time,” Cersei said through gritted teeth.

“My apologies.”

Y/N almost snorted at the complete lack of care in the Dragon Queen’s tone as she addressed Cersei for the first time but held a finger under her nose, attempting to hide her smile instead. But Oberyn did openly laugh, only stopping when Ellaria placed a hand on his thigh. When Y/N looked at them, eyes drawn to the pair like a moth to the flame, their smiles grew.

The sound around her died to a low roar. Y/N knew she should be paying attention—the meeting had been called with the premise of saving the Realm—but all she could see was them.

“I am not some lowborn trollop, husband. I will not be seen in anything other than the color that denotes my station.” Y/N stared down at the garish red and gold dress that her husband’s servants had placed on the featherbed just a few moments ago.

“Your station is cemented as my wife—Lady Lannister. You will wear your house’s colors and you will never fight me on something so frivolous again.”

“Oh? And what am I allowed to fight you on?” She retorted, feeling her upper lip curl in a sneer. “If not my clothes, what else? You have decided every bit of my life since I have arrived. Am I not allowed one bit of my home?”

Tywin reached out and struck her across the face. Pain bloomed from her eye to her jaw, throbbing in time with her hammering heart. “You would do well to hold your tongue. I have had enough of listening to your ungrateful words. You are the Lady of Casterly Rock—not a sniveling brat. You will wear this gown and I will not hear another word of it. Am I understood?”

Y/N only nodded, hand cradling her cheek and then Tywin swept from the room.

Silence washed over her like a wave in the big room. She stared down at the red dress. Gold lace lined the sleeves and there was even more of the gaudy lace around the neck—it would probably reach just below her chin.

It was a collar. Soft and expensive. But a collar, she realized.

“My lady?” She turned to see one of her handmaidens stepping in, a frazzled look on her face. “Are you ready for us to help you prepare for the wedding?” The girl’s eyes searched her face as if knowing something was wrong. “My lady?” She asked again when Y/N did not answer.

Y/N sucked in a breath and nodded. “Yes. And I believe we are running late.” She removed her dressing gown and let them start to tie her into the hideous gown. It itched. It did not move like the soft silks of Braavos. It was stiff and uncomfortable. It felt like a cage.

Perhaps that is what it was—a cage and a collar.

But she said nothing as she met Tywin outside his chambers and allowed him to grasp her hand and tuck it into the crux of his arm as he escorted her to the Sept. She said nothing as she took her place in the crowd. She said nothing as the stupid vows were exchanged and Joffrey named Margaery as his queen. She said nothing as she was led out to the grounds for the wedding feast. But she plotted. And her cheek throbbed.

She was seated on the raised dais at Tywin’s side but found herself slightly and strangely comforted by the fact that Sansa was within eyesight. When Tywin left her side to speak with someone—and she truly wasn’t listening nor cared who it was—Y/N quickly stood and walked to Sansa’s side, taking Tyrion’s vacated seat.

“How are you, pup?”

Sansa almost smiled. “Alive.”

“And that is half the battle, no?” She reached out and touched the girl’s hands. “Has he been kind?” Her head tilted just so to indicate Tyrion.

Sansa nodded. “I have no use of your gift yet.” They both sighed and looked out over the crowd. “Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions.”

“Yes, I suppose they are. But we have yet to attend one that is capable of making us smile.” She sighed again and looked back at Sansa, eyes catching the pretty, purple necklace around her throat. The jewels glinted…

“Careful with those, my love,” her mother chided as she pulled the little vials from her daughter’s childish fingers.

“What are they, Mama?”

“It was a gift,” Sansa said, providing an answer for the unasked question.

“From whom?”

“Lord Baelish.”

Y/N hummed and twisted one of the jewels between her fingers before letting it drop back against Sansa’s throat.

Y/N listened to Jon Snow blather on about saving the Realm, about how an army who doesn’t leave corpses was coming and could not be bargained with. Cersei had a few quips of her own and Y/N pondered if she truly needed to have shut herself into a wheelhouse for weeks to travel here just to listen to Cersei complain and foreign monarchs hardly disguise their contempt. But then Sandor Clegane emerged from the underground tunnel with a large crate on his back and the Dragon Pit grew quiet.

He set it down and…nothing happened, even as he removed the lid.

But then he circled back and kicked it over. With a scream, a creature emerged and ran at Cersei. Bone and dried skin and glowing blue eyes. That was all it was.

That and the terrifying scream.

“You look exquisite, child,” Lady Olenna said as she approached Sansa. “The wind has bit at you though.” Olenna glanced at Y/N in acknowledgement, bowing her head just a fraction before focusing on Sansa again, tugging at the ends of her pretty red hair. “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother. War is war, but killing a man at a wedding? Horrid. What sort of monster would do such a thing?” An aged finger traced against Sansa’s cheek. “As if men need more reasons to fear marriage.”

Y/N snorted into her chalice of wine and earned a wink from Olenna over Sansa’s head. But it was the next movement that truly caught Y/N’s attention. Olenna fiddled with Sansa’s necklace before inviting her and Tyrion to Highgarden just as the lion in question approached. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it is time to enjoy this food I paid for.”

Y/N pulled Sansa back into conversation as Olenna departed and noted that one of the strange little gems was now missing from the necklace. What was Olenna planning? Whatever it was, it was sure to be more entertaining than the pretention of this wedding feast. She stood and had Sansa do the same. “Come, pup. It is time we acted like Lannisters, no?” She linked their arms together and led them toward the obnoxiously decorated grounds filled with more food and entertainment.

They both found little enjoyment in the contortionists or the musicians who insisted on playing and replaying The Rains of Castamere on a variety of instruments. But the food was mostly seasoned well.

“Tyrion tells me that a Dornish Prince is in attendance. He’s traveled all over Essos, perhaps he has been to Braavos?” Sansa asked as Y/N found her some lemon cakes and they sequestered themselves away in a dark corner while Y/N sipped on a bit of sweet wine.

“Oh? It would be nice to hear of my home from someone who knows it.” She almost smiled. “I must take you across the Narrow Sea, introduce you to my home. And maybe I can know Winterfell, too.”

Sansa’s smile was small but genuine. “I would like that.”

“But tell me, what is this prince’s name? Perhaps I’ve met him when my lord husband was parading around.”

Sansa wiped the crumbs from her face. “Prince Oberyn Martell.”

Jon Snow was a bigger idiot than Sansa had ever said he was in her missives. Openly proclaiming that he had sworn the North and bent the knee to the Dragon Queen while trying to broker a tentative agreement with an unstable lion was very, very stupid. He could have, should have lied and just agreed to the terms Cersei had laid out, keeping her in the dark about his true allegiance.

But no.

Apparently he had more Stark in him than sense.

Everyone had separated after Cersei had stormed away and Y/N found herself walking toward one of the few places she hadn’t seen anyone retreat to but then-

“Mama!”

Y/N turned and caught the child that had leapt into the air, knowing his mother would catch him.

A soft murmur of her name had her freezing.

He looked so similar. Barely anything had changed since the last time she had seen him, all too briefly nearly a decade ago. The same self-assured gait. The same sparkle in his eyes. The same charming half-smile that had her mirroring the expression without a thought.

“Hello, little Titan.”

And with the next breath she was younger, visiting her friend Bellegere on her mother’s fine barge, evading her duties for the day. “You are not who I was expecting,” came a voice behind her.

Y/N turned and arched a brow at the young man looking in the doorway. “Nor was I expecting you.” He was either lost or an esteemed guest if he had found his way to Bellegere’s private rooms. With his fine clothes and self-assured smile, Y/N wagered he was the latter. “Who are you?”

He introduced himself with a growing smile and kissed her on the back of the hand before turning her hand over and pressing another kiss to her palm. And the first time in months, Y/N giggled.

The prince was eventually greeted by Bellegere’s mother and he was just as flirtatious with her but did not seem too preoccupied with bedding the famous courtesan as many of her other clients had been lately. In between meetings with the captains of the Second Sons mercenary company, Oberyn was found frequently upon the barge—and Y/N always found herself invited, too. Whether it was by Bellegere or Oberyn, they always seemed eager to pull her away from her duties again and again.

Bellegere had been calm, as she always was with her mother’s clients (Bellegere knew she would one day be the Black Pearl of Braavos and took her training very seriously), but Y/N saw how the Dornish prince had her smiling into her hand after whispering something into her ear, a far cry from the demure tilting of her lips her clients usually coaxed from her while buying her attention and company.

Anyone who could make Bellegere, with all her practiced manners and carefully curated gestures, smile like that was truly a force to be reckoned with. But even when he was on Bellegere’s arm, he took care to include Y/N in their conversations, wanting her opinion. “I like the sound of your voice, little Titan.”

And that wretched, silly nickname. While he called Bellegere by her name, or “my Pearl,” he called Y/N his “little Titan,” a play on how Braavos was known for the hulking statue of a titan at its gates. She was not sure if she loved it or loathed it.

“Have you two been introduced?” Sansa’s question pulled Y/N from her reverie.

“Yes,” Oberyn answered for her with a wink. “We met years ago in Braavos.” It was an understatement. Every time the Second Sons were within a handful of leagues of Braavos, Oberyn made it a point to visit Y/N and Bellegere. There was nothing overtly carnal within their relationship. In fact, they all seemed to be closer friends than anything else. Bellegere was free to be herself in his presence and Y/N was, too. Oberyn was always happy to be their escort around the city and pay for their attentions as if he were any other client, but largely they spent their time laughing and speaking of the world beyond Braavos. He disappeared a few years later only to return to Braavos, older and angrier, to meet with Illyrio Mopatis on business he could not discuss with them. But he had been just as kind with them as he always had been—always a dutiful friend. The last time she had seen him, he had whispered about the death of his sister and her babies, of how she was cruelly killed while trying to protect her children.

It would not be until Y/N reached King’s Landing that she learned that it was believed that Tywin gave the order for his loyal dog, Gregor Clegane, to kill the Princess and her babes.

If Y/N had known that, she would have taken Bellegere’s offer of working on her barge instead of allowing her father to barter her away to Tywin. She never would have betrayed Oberyn like that if she had known. Truly.

But it was too late.

Y/N noticed the beautiful woman at Oberyn side. Surely there were songs sung about her gentle eyes. “But I have not met your lovely companion, my prince.”

Oberyn’s smile widened and he took the woman’s hand and pulled her forward just a bit, obviously filled with pride to have her at his side. “This is Ellaria Sand, my paramour.”

Ellaria curtseyed, “my lady.”

Y/N returned the gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ellaria.”

The woman glanced at Oberyn with a smile. “It seems you are one of the few who share that sentiment.”

Y/N waved it away. “The Westerosi have strange conceptions of honor and status.” She made sure to pat Sansa’s hand. “But there are a few who make it bearable.”

But then a noise drew all of their attention. It started with Queen Margaery screaming, “he’s choking!”

Joffrey heaved with stuttering breaths before collapsing. And the pieces were falling into place.

“You idiots! Help your king!” Olenna shouted. She was a good actress.

Movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention and she watched a poorly dressed fool grab at Sansa’s arm and try to lead her away. Without moving her head, Y/N reached out and snatched Sansa’s hand. “Stay, pup. You know not what you do.”

Sansa’s blue eyes flittered between the Fool and the Lion on her arm and then pulled out of the man’s grip.

Satisfied, Y/N turned to watch Cersei scream and scream and scream as her firstborn turned purple in her arms and Tyrion was carted away by a pair of white cloaks. What a pretty painting that would be. She took another sip of wine.

“It is almost as if you were avoiding me, Little Titan.” He still smiled as if no time had passed since their last meeting. But the easy expression faded as he looked down to the small boy in her hold.

Slowly, Y/N set her son down and brushed a bit of dirt from his cherubic cheek. “This is my son, Morgan Lannister.”

Oberyn’s hand shook as he reached out a hand toward the dark haired boy. “Pleased to meet you, little lord.”

Morgan smiled up at Oberyn, bright-eyed, as Oberyn’s finger traced over his brow. “You are Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell! Mama tells me stories about you—about your adventures across the Narrow Sea. And how you slew a mountain!”

“The Mountain, my dear boy,” his mother gently corrected.

“Hardly appropriate bedtime stories,” Ellaria chuckled.

“He likes to know when the hero prevails.”

Little Tommen looked so small when he sat on the throne. He was so…kind. So little. That stupid chair was too rough for his gentle soul. But she clapped when he was proclaimed king and smiled when his bright eyes caught hers, a nervous smile on his lips.

“He will be a fair king,” she heard someone whisper as the clapping and cheering continued. “Kind.”

He would be ruled by Tywin. Y/N knew it to be true. The young king was far easier to manipulate—and perhaps Olenna was anticipating that detail, too. Hm. Olenna versus Tywin in a battle of wills. That would be interesting to watch.

“You are contemplative, Little Titan.”

Y/N smiled at the sound of Oberyn’s voice whispering in her ear. They had frequently sought out each other’s company for the last handful of days, meeting in the sunny gardens to reminisce about their time together in Braavos and learning of their adventures during their time apart. Ellaria had proven to be a true, steadfast friend and Y/N was grateful to know her and hear her stories of her childhood at Hellholt in Dorne. And she wanted to hear what Oberyn thought of this newest pretentious display of power but her eyes darted to see Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys far too close for her liking. While she could rely on knowing where the various servants and Westerosi handmaidens to always whisper the ludicrous stories she had concocted into Tywin and Cersei’s ears, she was not sure how to handle the two men who were arguably more intelligent. “We have a new king,” was all she said. “Long may he reign.”

Oberyn’s nose wrinkled for a moment, confused by her response, but nodded as he noticed Pycelle glance in their direction. “Yes, long may he reign.”

She wanted so badly to simply speak with him. She was alone in the capital. Tywin had dismissed her handmaidens and sent them back to Casterly Rock, replacing them with women from the Westerlands who had once been Princess Myrcella’s maids. He was making sure she was alone. Y/N rolled her shoulders as she watched Tywin approach her. He held out his hand for her to take and she dutifully placed her hand in his, letting him guide her up the small set up steps and dais toward the ugly throne. Tommen’s face broke into a smile as she approached and curtseyed. “Lady Lannister.”

“Your Grace,” she replied. “May the Seven bless your reign,” she repeated the words she had heard droned over and over, knowing the little king found comfort in them even if she thought it ridiculous.

“Thank you, my lady.”

Tywin squeezed her arm and she bit back a wince as he led her away. His grip only tightened the further away they were from the mass of celebrators and they only slowed to a stop for a moment, in a dark corner of the hall for him to hiss in her ear, “you will retire to your chambers, immediately.”

Over his shoulder, Y/N spotted Oberyn slipping into the hall, his dark eyes narrowed at the scene. “Of course, my lord.”

But his grip only tightened. “I will not have you making a spectacle of yourself and my house’s name.” Tywin’s long fingers finally pulled away from her skin and he signaled for two white cloaks to flank her on each side. “Make sure she is waiting for me. Do not let her leave the Tower of the Hand until I have come for her. Am I understood?”

Y/N could only gape at her husband as two pairs of unfamiliar, armored hands grasped at her arms and started to pull her away.

And when she was all but shoved into her chambers in the cold tower, Y/N knew she would be facing the old lion’s wrath.

Time trickled by slowly. The tower she had been told to call home was quiet. No servants. No handmaidens (she would not be surprised if they had been told to vacate that morning). No lower-ranking Lannisters begging for a bit of attention.

She was alone.

And she waited.

A glance outside her chamber’s window let her know that the two guards were still standing sentinel at the entry to the tower. Maybe she had become a character from one of those songs children were so fond of—a princess in a tower, waiting for a knight to rescue her.

But she was not a princess.

She was a daughter of Braavos. And she was tired of waiting for something to happen to her, for continuing to allow things to happen. She was going to make it happen.

“My lady, I am so sorry,” an out of breath handmaiden sprinted to her side and looked down at the little lord. “He ran off when I turned for just a moment.”

Y/N looked down at Morgan who offered a guilty smile. “I missed you, mama.”

“I was only gone for a moment, little one,” Y/N murmured before pressing a kiss to his cheek and winking at the handmaiden, letting her know there was no harm done. Her son was hard to contain on the best of days. “We have talked about being patient, no? I will never leave you alone for long.”

“But Septon Martyn said you were…umm…” his little face scrunched up, searching for words. “I forget.”

“That’s okay, little one. You’ll remember later.”

“But did you see a dragon?” He nearly screeched, dark eyes lighting up.

“I did. And it was beautiful.” She bent and set him back on his little feet. “But you have to promise mama something, yes? You have to stay with Septon Martyn and Tyanna until I am finished.”

Morgan’s bottom lip jutted out and his gaze moved to Oberyn who was looking down at him with an intense fondness that made her sigh. And Ellaria was at his side, a gentle and curious affection in her gaze. “But what if I want to stay with Prince Oberyn?”

Y/N knew to protect her head even before she passed the first stone step. Down, down, down she fell, limbs smacking against the stairs and bannisters until she came to an abrupt stop on the cold ground. The ceiling swam as she finally opened her eyes.

Within a handful of pained breaths, blood coating her teeth and tongue, she watched Tywin loom over her. He had leisurely walked down the winding stairs, uncaring of how he had tried to kill her just moments ago. But perhaps he knew she would survive. This was simply a warning.

“You are a disgrace. You are my wife. I will not be made a fool of any longer. You will not be seen dallying with some Dornish tart prince or his whore. You will not cavort around as if you truly belong here. You do not. You have not earned your place yet.”

“What do you want?” She asked, tongue heavy in her mouth and blood coating her throat. “What do you want?”

“What was promised to me. I do not know what potion you’ve conjured or trick you have conceived, but I will be given an heir. Or I will have your head on a pike.” His thin lips curled into a sneer, the closest she had ever seen to him smile, before he stepped over her crumpled form and out into the sunlight.

And she let herself wallow for just a moment, only until the ceiling stopped spinning and then she rolled onto her side with a wince and grunted as she pushed herself up onto unsteady feet.

“If you want an heir, I’ll produce an heir.” The vow was snarled into the quiet air of the tower.

Y/N watched little Morgan toddle away, his hand firmly clasped in the handmaiden’s, babbling excitedly about dragons and princes. And then her eyes once again found Oberyn and Ellaria, both also watching the little lord walk away.

“He looks like you,” Ellaria said with a smile.

“Yes. A small blessing, I suppose.” She watched Oberyn’s smile widen and he unsuccessfully hid it behind his hand.

A sudden movement caught their gaze and they realized that Cersei had come back, apparently ready to parley with the Dragon Queen.

A cold cloth was pressed to the swelling of her cheek.

“How cruel, to hurt someone so beautiful.”

The scent of the pleasure house was almost comforting; filled with expensive perfumes and burning incense, it was a welcome reprieve from the stench of the city. But all Y/N truly cared about was how soft Ellaria’s touch was and how gentle the other woman was, even after Y/N had bodily climbed in through the window of their room and collapsed onto the floor.

In a strange stroke of luck, the pair had not been entertaining themselves with another person’s (or multiple people) talents and time. And perhaps she truly did look worse for wear if the pained looks and surprised noises they let out when she lifted her head were any indication.

Ellaria had quickly called for a servant to bring what she needed as Oberyn easily hid Y/N’s crumpled form in their warm bed from any prying eyes.

“I am sorry…” Y/N said, “I am so sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Oberyn asked as he took a seat beside her. Gentle fingers pressed at broken skin at her hairline and he frowned. “You escaped your gilded cage and sought safety with us—there is nothing to apologize for in this instance, Little Titan. You have trusted us. There is no higher honor.”

Ellaria hummed her agreement and continued to clean the cuts and calm the swelling around her face. “But how you managed to evade all those gold and white cloaks is surely a tale to tell.”

Y/N smiled but regretted it when pain bloomed across her entire face and Ellaria tutted as a bit of blood bubbled from a scab. “I do doubt it is anything worthy of repeating. Just a bit of Sweetsleep in some wine and hoping for the best.”

“It took you five days to think of Sweetsleep?” Oberyn teased but there was still a clear undertone of concern in his voice that made her heart clench. They cared.

She had a plan, true. And if they agreed vengeance could belong to all of them. Tywin had taken enough from them. “It took me five days to muster the courage to come to you.”

The simple sentence took the air from the room. Ellaria’s gentle touch paused and Oberyn grasped her hands, careful of the injuries. “Tell us, Little Titan. Tell us what you need.”

Y/N looked to Ellaria first and then Oberyn. “It is my lord-husband.”

“I knew it,” Oberyn said, looking to Ellaria who nodded. “I knew he would. He destroys everything he touches. Everything.”

“And I need to let him think he has—just for a few moons longer.”

“Why? Why wait? I can kill him now and be done with it-”

“I want to kill him,” Y/N said, voice steady. “But I want to take away everything he has created. Everything he has worked for, killed for. I want it all. And you are the only ones who would be able to truly take it from him, the only ones I trust.”

Ellaria and Oberyn looked at each other again before turning back to her. “What is your plan, Little Titan?”

She knew Cersei was lying when she said that she would send the Crown’s forces to aid in the fight against the Night King. But it seemed Jon and Daenerys would take her at her word.

Stupid mistake.

As the small crowd dispersed and Y/N continued to play the dutiful peon with a final curtsey, her mind churned. While Cersei had most of the Westerland armies at the capital, some had been allowed to keep to their posts in their homeland. They were Y/N’s to command. And she knew they would listen.

She would not stay in the capital. She did not care if Cersei had expected her to stay. She did not care if the polite thing would be to at least graciously decline the rooms probably readied for her presence.

She did not care.

Her son was in the city. And a war was coming.

The Dragon Queen and Jon Snow were trustworthy. Y/N did not care if the wrath of Cersei was turned on her after this—she could handle Cersei, if needed. But the Realm needed Dragons if they wanted to survive. Daenerys seemed much more reasonable and willing to listen than Cersei ever did so she would not mind if the petite Valyrian sat on the Iron Throne after the dead were dealt with. But that came first.

The small entourage Y/N had arrived with was waiting dutifully by her wheelhouse, also tired of the city, it seemed.

“My lady,” A soft voice said, gaining her attention.

Y/N turned to see Ellaria waiting patiently just outside the Dragon Pit. “Yes?” She took a moment to glance around and see that they were largely alone. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own retreat to pay them any mind.

“We must speak with you.”

Y/N gave one last look to her son, watching him laugh so easily at something a handmaiden whispered into his ear. For now, he was safe.

Y/N turned and linked her arm through Ellaria’s, once again finding an easy comfort in the other woman’s warmth. “I am all yours for a few moments, my lady.”

“Lady Lannister, what a sight you are!”

Y/N bit back the snarl at Maester Pycelle’s exclamation. Despite tending to her bruising, swelling and broken skin for nearly a fortnight, she still looked a fright. She knew it. But it was another thing for an old man in tattered rags to announce it so loudly.

“It is nothing. A servant spilled a bit of wine near the stairs and I did not see it. A careless mistake.”

Pycelle nodded. “Yes. Careless. But you should thank the Seven that you are still able to fulfill your earthly, wifely duties.”

Y/N felt her hands curl into fists and tucked them behind her back, ignoring the ache the movement caused. “Yes. Duties.”

Tyrion’s trial had finally started and Y/N was expected to attend. She retrieved Sansa from her locked chambers—a stark contrast from the Black Cells where Tyrion was kept—and had escorted her to the Great Hall, half a dozen kingsguard surrounding them. She had only a moment alone with Sansa in her chambers before she knew she would draw suspicion from the guards waiting outside the door. “You will need to lie, pup.”

“But-”

Y/N grasped Sansa’s chin in a loose grip but her eyes were hard. “You will lie, Sansa. Your life depends on it. I can only keep you safe if you do.”

“What would you have me say?”

“That you knew of Tyrion’s hatred of his nephew but you did not think he would go so far as to poison him.”

Sansa’s blue eyes watered but she nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good, pup. Then you shall be just fine.”

The entire Great Hall was packed with spectators and she took a seat toward the front, near the dais as Margaery’s side, and Sansa had been relegated toward the back, being treated like another accused instead of a witness. The whole thing smacked of Cersei’s bias.

But Y/N held her tongue, watching as Tyrion was escorted into the hall in heavy chains, and stood as Tommen did, following the rest of the crowd. Tywin briefly looked at her, a smug look on his face as he saw the black and red gown she wore—the stupid garment had been the only garment in her chambers that morning. He was not subtle.

“I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, first of my name, King of the Andals, First Men, and Rhyonar, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, hereby recuse myself from this trial. Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of the King, protector of the realm, will serve as judge in my stead. With him, Prince Oberyn of the House Martell, and Lord Mace of the House Tyrell. If found guilty, may the gods punish the accused.”

As Oberyn moved to take his seat, he caught her eye for just a moment—and that look was all she needed to remember to breathe.

As person after person provided “evidence” against Tyrion, Y/N started to wonder if she would ever be able to leave this stupid hall. There was a slight reprieve in her sheer boredom when Sansa was called forward and she gave testimony that Tyrion did not care for Joffrey but she could not be sure if he truly poisoned his nephew. Her blue eyes glanced toward Y/N for her final words, “but I would not be so bold as to completely clear him of guilt or conspiracy.”

And that proved enough for Tywin to dismiss the little pup and let her retake her seat—without the small troupe of guards surrounding her. Sansa had been deemed innocent.

But this farce of trial was far from over. It continued on and on—and even included an appearance from Shae, who was apparently Tyrion’s lover. How quaint. Oberyn easily saw right through her lies and made nearly everyone present squirm with a double entendre. Y/N hid her smile behind her hand and ignored the blood bursting from her healing lip.

But the joy was short lived when Tyrion exclaimed, “I demand a trial by combat.”

Oberyn was waiting in a dark hollow of the dragon pit’s crumbling walls and drew both Ellaria and Y/N into his arms. He kissed Ellaria slowly and then pressed his warm lips against Y/N’s pulse. It sent familiar shivers down her spine.

“You are planning something, Little Titan.”

“As are you, my prince.”

Ellaria sighed. “You two are impossible.”

Y/N ducked her head with a smile. “A fair assessment, my lady, but I do not think you would enjoy us half as much if we were not constantly scheming.”

“You know the lioness will not honor her word,” Oberyn cut in quickly. His grip tightened around them.

“Of course not. She will wait for the Night King to both wipe out her enemies and then try to fight him herself, or attack after the battle is won and their numbers are depleted.” While Cersei thought herself Tywin’s true heir in manners of warfare and plotting, the only true manner she had inherited from her father was her inability to forget a slight. “I will not stand by and wait for the dead to reach Casterly Rock. Not while my son is…” the words died on her tongue.

But Ellaria grasped her hand and squeezed it tight. “You have something to fight for. We all do.”

“Dorne will fight beside you. We will fight for the living.”

“It is for luck,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Even the bravest in Braavos drink it. I have not seen a single man who drank this fall to his opponent.”

“I do not need to drink your potion to kill the Dornishman.” Of course, Ser Gregor Clegane would say something like that. His reputation and his (stupid) moniker of The Mountain might have been well earned but that did not mean Y/N any higher of him. In fact, his inability to think for himself when Tywin gave an order only made him smaller in her eyes.

Easy prey.

But that did not mean she would let Oberyn handle him on his own.

Y/N raised the cup a little higher, pressing a worried expression to her face. “It is more for my nerves, my lord, I assure you. I have heard of your prowess even across the Narrow Sea. But please,” she reached out to place a hand on his arm, a pretty picture of genteel worry, “calm my heart.”

Gregor nearly sneered as he took the cup and drained it in one gulp. “For you, Lady Lannister.”

Y/N reached out to take the cup back with a quick dip of her chin and another smile. “I thank you, Ser Gregor.”

She handed it off to a handmaiden and then let herself be escorted to her seat under the canopy, sitting aside her husband. She watched Oberyn and Ellaria speak to Tyrion under their own canopy, happily drinking wine and eating berries. The confidence they had in Oberyn was palpable—and for good reason. But Y/N never did like to watch an even match.

It was too boring.

Pycelle prattled on about how the gods would decide the fate of the trial by combat and soon the two men were engaged in battle.

Oberyn delighted in each blow and catch of his spear into the Mountain’s hulking form and made sure Gregor knew who his opponent was. “I am the brother of Elia Martell. Do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking shit-pile of a city? For you.” Another catch and parry. “I'm going to hear you confess before you die. You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now and we can make this quick.” Another clash of blades. “Say it. You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.” Y/N watched Clegane stumble, nearly fall to his knees, as Oberyn landed a kick to his hulking form.

“You murdered her! You killed her children!” Each word out of Oberyn’s mouth grew louder and louder.

Even over the din of the crowd starting to roar, Y/N heard Gregor’s shuddering breath as he struggled to his feet and his grip seemed to loosen on his broadsword.

Oberyn sank the end of his spear into Gregor’s side and quickly gave another, dodging a loose-gripped swipe of The Mountain’s sword at his neck. He stepped back only to watch the giant of a man stumble with a smirk. Oberyn charged at the Mountain to give him one final blow. Blood spurted out of Gregor’s mouth as Oberyn pulled his spear back.

The earth itself seemed to rumble as Gregor finally fell to his knees.

“Wait. Are you dying? No, no, no. You can't die yet,” Oberyn mocked. “You haven't confessed. Say it. Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her. You killed her children. Elia Martell. Who gave you the order? Who gave you the order?!” Oberyn lifted a hand and pointed toward Tywin.

And for the millionth time since Oberyn had arrived in the city, Y/N had to hide a smile.

“Say her name! You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children. Say it. Say her name. Say it!”

Y/N did not move her gaze from the ring, uncaring of Tywin’s reaction. She would remember how the crowds gasped and started to murmur. In a single moment, the rumor that had almost been forgotten had been reignited. She was not surprised to learn that Oberyn had declared himself Tyrion’s champion when Gregor was called in for the crown.

And she wanted to make sure Oberyn was given at least a small bit of justice.

But Gregor could not answer. He fell forward, more blood pouring from his mouth, arms shaking to keep him from completely collapsing.

“Tell me!” Oberyn roared. “Tell me!” He leaned down to listen to something The Mountain said, whispered only for him to hear. But when he stood, Oberyn swung his spear and buried it into the Mountain’s head.

Y/N, Ellaria, and Oberyn plotted to move their loyal forces for only a little longer, keeping both the Dragon Queen and Crazed Lioness from overhearing. But soon-

“Mama! Mama!” And for the second time that day, Y/N was nearly leveled by her son throwing himself at her legs.

“We must work on your patience, my love. I was nearly finished.” She hauled the squirming boy into her arms and kissed his cheek. “We shall have supper at the inn but the hill when I am finished, hm? They have that pie you like.”

Morgan happily nodded and squirmed again, wanting to be let down. As his little feet hit the broken stone, he turned to look up at Oberyn and Ellaria, smiling wide. “Hello again, Prince Oberyn!”

Oberyn smiled and leaned down to Morgan’s level before gesturing to Ellaria who smiled fondly down at him. “This is Ellaria Sand, the love of my life.”

Morgan’s little hand reached out to Ellaria and he pressed a quick peck to her fingers, much to her delight. “My lady.” His following bow only continued to earn giggles.

Y/N watched Oberyn as he observed the little scene. His face was serene yet sad. And she knew why.

“You have a viper’s eyes, little lord.”

Morgan preened at the compliment despite not knowing what it meant. “Thank you, Prince Oberyn!”

King’s Landing was a powder keg.

After ‘the gods’ deemed Tyrion innocent, he fled in the night. But Cersei continued to rage and rage and rage, still offering a hefty sum for Tyrion’s head on a platter. Tommen and Margaery were married in another lavish ceremony and the Tyrells continued to press their influence over their city and the new king, only pushing Cersei further toward the edge. Tywin would hold daily meetings with the Small Council and with Lady Olenna, trying to keep the precarious balance of power decidedly in his favor.

And all that distraction proved very fortuitous for Y/N.

“Oh please, please,” she gasped as Oberyn continued to move.

Ellaria chuckled above her before moving Y/N’s mouth back to between her thighs. Y/N had always been very talented with her tongue. It was something Ellaria was happy to learn.

“Patience,” Oberyn said in a breathy huff. “You are always so greedy.”

But Y/N simply buried herself further into the soft patch of curls between Ellaria’s thighs as Oberyn canted his hips just slightly, letting her feel him nearly in her stomach.

They had done this every day—and almost every night—as Tywin was distracted.

Oberyn’s warm, calloused hands curled over Y/N’s thighs, anchoring them around his waist as his pace grew faster and faster. And Ellaria sighed, holding Y/N’s head still as she found her high and coated Y/N’s lips with her release—sticky and sweet.

“Are you nearly done, my love?” Ellaria’s voice was raspy and she did not move from her seat on Y/N’’s mouth, even as she shook with overstimulation. Y/N was greedy—Oberyn had rightly branded her so. And Ellaria tasted so good. “You do have a meeting to attend.”

Oberyn huffed but his pace did increase and the coil in Y/N’s belly wounded tighter and tighter, for the third time that morning, and then finally snapped as Oberyn groaned before leaning forward to press a kiss to Ellaria’s kiss-slick lips. Warmth bloomed and Y/N shook.

Yes. King’s Landing was a powder keg. But it was delicious.

And when Y/N passed the Small Council chamber later that morning she nearly snorted as she heard Tywin say, “You look tired, Prince Oberyn.”

And Oberyn, ever the viper, responded, “yes, my lover and I are trying for another child. I have heard you are trying for another heir, too, no?”

When the next morning came and Tywin left her bed, let him be for a moment before readying herself for the day. She slipped into his chambers and put on her dutiful-wife mask, one she had worn so well for the past handful of moons.

“I will be speaking with the Maesters this morning.”

“Oh?” Tywin responded, buttoning his tunic.

“Yes, I have been feeling poorly and I have missed my last moon blood. I am hoping I will have good news for you soon.”

Tywin was quiet for a moment before he hummed. It almost sounded happy. “You will tell me immediately what they say. Do you understand?”

“Of course, my lord.” She pulled his Hand of the King pin from atop one of his trunks and handed it to him. “I would have Sansa as a ward. King’s Landing has only made her a scared little thing—she will cow in front of the Northmen she’s supposed to rally to your grandson’s cause.”

“And you believe you may shape her into something-”

“Someone who will command respect and is loyal, my lion. Your daughter, for all her charms, was not suited to mold someone as gentle as Sansa. Her children were born with a steel core. Little Sansa needs a gentle, shaping hand.” Y/N slipped her arms around Tywin’s shoulders as he adjusted the pin over his heart. “I know you have an allegiance with Lord Bolton who you have named the Warden of the North in the Starks’ absence. The Northmen’s loyalty to them is tenuous at best. I know you strive for peace. If you could arrange for Sansa and the Boltons to find common ground, I know it would give you a small bit of reprieve to know you no longer had to worry about the North revolting. Again.”

Tywin froze—just for a moment. “Perhaps you aren’t as useless as I had been beginning to suspect.”

Y/N only smiled.

And after having the Maesters confirm that she was with child, she knew Tywin would come to her bed chamber again. She offered him a cup of wine in celebration and watched him drain it as he smirked. And she let him undo the laces of her dress. She let him pull her chemise over her head. She let him press her down into the pillows.

And then he paused. His eyes screwed shut with a pained groan. Tywin fell to the side and Y/N happily climbed over him.

“What…have you done?”

Y/N felt the slash of a smile grow across her face. “I have taken everything from you.” Her hands folded over her stomach. “You have only moments to live. But life grows within me. And your line has ended.” She watched the light fade from his eyes before forcing tears into her own. She let a few trickle down her cheeks for maximum effect before climbing off her husband’s lap and pulling on a dressing robe before dashing to the door and flinging it open. “My husband, please! Please someone help my husband!”

“Does he know?” Oberyn asked quietly as he helped Y/N lift little Morgan into the carriage. The child had fallen asleep at the table, nearly tipping over his prized pie. A day full of excitement had worn him out. He had caught a single glimpse of a dragon as their traveling party departed the city and had animatedly recounted the story to anyone and everyone who would listen. Oberyn and Ellaria had quietly followed.

“He knows his father is a brave, strong man. Who is loyal to his word, devoted to his family, and a hero for the ages.”

“Does he believe it is Tywin?” Oberyn asked, his fingers brushing the dark hair away from his son’s forehead.

“I believe he is smart enough to understand it is not.” She paused. “He is heir to the Lannister seat of power. He will hold everything Tywin worked so hard to build and protect. But the Lannister bloodline has ended. Yours will continue—yours will hold his seat of power until the gods deem this world finished. House Lannister is now your blood—your son.”

“But will he know the truth? Will he ever know me as his father?”

“Of course,” she said with a small smile. “When the time is right, and I know he can keep this secret, he will know your name as his true father. He will know you, love you.”

“And you? What of you?”

“What of me?” She repeated. “What would you need of me?”

Oberyn and Ellaria locked eyes for a moment before their penetrating gazes moved back to her. “We will want you as well.”

“Me?”

“We will always want you.”

Y/N sucked in a breath, trembling for the first time in decades. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Gone were the washes of gaudy crimson fabric and she was once again permitted to drape herself in black. She was a widow now. Perhaps that suited her. And now that Tywin was dead, she saw no reason to stay in King’s Landing. Tywin, before his tragic death of a bad heart, had announced to the court that Y/N was with child. It had only cemented her status as the true ruler of Casterly Rock.

Before she departed, Cersei called her into her chambers for tea. It was the most civil Cersei had ever been toward her and it was still laced with unsubtle threats and verbal barbs.

“The newest Lannister. A new brother,” Cersei mused, her eyes pointedly looking at Y/N’s stomach. “I hope they look like father.”

“I do doubt they will look like Lannisters.”

“Oh?” Cersei said, mouth tilting just so. “Are you so sure?”

“I do not look like a Lannister, your grace. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“Yes, but the seed is strong-”

“Not strong enough. I assure you. The babe will look like me. After all, it seems you have taken all the luck and used it on your children—all of them, green-eyed and golden-haired. What are the chances? Hm?” Y/N finished her tea and stood. “I thank you for the company, your grace. But it is time for me to leave.” And Y/N turned and left without being dismissed, a smile on her face all the while.

And she left. She left without saying goodbye to Oberyn and Ellaria—her only friends in the city. She left knowing it would hurt them. But trying to find a moment to find them, to explain, would only cast suspicion on the paternity of her child. Because she knew she would not be able to stop herself from falling into their arms one last time.

Sansa gave her a small smile as they both settled into the wheelhouse and soon they were off.

Months slipped by and the pregnancy was largely uneventful.

She had kept her distance when she had heard of the Greyjoy attack on Myrcella’s boat and the princess’ death. She kept all the sword hands she could within the borders of the Westerlands when Cersei seized power from the Tyrells after the mysterious death of Tommen. She declared herself queen and threw Margaery into the Black Cells, threatening to send her head to Olenna if the Reach rebelled. She had played the part of careful, dutiful Lady of the Rock very well. She had kept Cersei’s eye off her kingdom and focused on the threats she perceived from across the Narrow Sea or the North.

Sansa had been a dutiful student. When Lord Bolton asked if Sansa would be willing to marry his son, Ramsey, she accepted, even knowing the boy’s reputation to be cold and cruel. Crueler still after the mysterious and suspicious death of his father.

But he never touched Sansa. No. On their wedding night, Ramsey fell ill and then never woke.

But Sansa was the Lady of Winterfell again—a Stark was in the North.

And it was so easy for the North to rally to her cause and the North rose up in revolt again. It made Y/N laugh.

But soon the baby was coming—far sooner than she had anticipated. With a final scream, it was over. A baby’s cries filled the air and a bloody, squirming infant was placed in her arms, wrapped in black silk.

“A boy, my lady. A healthy boy. Have you thought of a name?”

Y/N felt tears start to gather in her eyes as she looked down at her son—her beautiful son. The spitting image of her—but then his eyes opened. And he had his father’s eyes. Viper eyes. “His name is Morgan.”

Y/N’s lips still burned from the kiss Oberyn and Ellaria left her with before they departed.

And her heart was lighter, too. They had forgiven her—had said there was nothing, truly, to forgive. “You were protecting your child. My child.”

Morgan stirred in her arms as the wheelhouse rode over a bump. “Mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

His viper eyes opened and she smiled, seeing them shine in the low light of the evening. “Will we see Prince Oberyn and Lady Ellaria again?”

Her smile widened. “Yes. I can promise you that.”

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